#blue lantern miles

[punkeropercyjackson]

It's absolutely hilarious to me as an autistic black woman with a special interest in superheroes when fake geek brocels and white poser fangirls try to assign Jason Todd a counterpart and they go for some crusty white guys as if Miles Morales isn't literally him and not even on purpose.Like yeah yeah Miles dosen't not follow the no kill rule but contrary to popular belief,Jason does,in fact,have a personality and lore outside of his edge and also contrary to popular belief,Miles isn't a walking stereotype with no individuality who's just racebent Peter Parker.Miles is more Jason-coded than the Jason from Titans,Gotham Knights AND the og Outlaws and Miles G is Marvel's Red Hood,no cap!!AND they look alike(aesthetically + if you're an afrolatino Jason knower,you know he'd basically pass as Miles' older brother and treat him like they're brothers too)!Wake up sheeple,Jason Todd is a black latino and Miles Morales solos every white boy in every universe!JT takes a look at Miles and Robin!Duke Thomas from No52 aka well-written Rhato and goes 'Damn i didn't know Prime Earth has two suns'

[assterixs]

!!!Emergency Commissions!!!

Hi there!! im normally not one to post my art on here or push my commissions super hard, but im currently trying to move cross country and am struggling to save. Im a trans man trying to get out of a not great place in florida to move in with my partner. Please please please dm me if youre at all interested, or if you want to donate, anything helps and is incredibly appreciated!! reblogs are also greatly appreciated!

Ill draw pretty much anything fandom-wise, self-ships, nsfw (im new to it though so im gonna say case by case basis for it), gore, on the other hand, i cant do furry or anthro, no like. crimes (zoo, incest, etc)

v3nmo: @asterixs

c4sh 4pp: $asterixs

PP: @asstericks

[nikkisheep]

Pretty Like That

Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Warnings: age gap (Daryl is in his 40s and reader is in her 20s), sexual tension, SMUT, oral (f), fingering, overstimulaton, thigh riding, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut, whore), hair pulling, kissing, Daryl whimpers, insecure Daryl about his scars, slightly perv Daryl (he watches reader change)

Summary: After spending a supply run together, the sexual tension between you and a certain archer becomes almost too much and threatens to overcome the both of you.

Song Rec while reading:

wRoNg: ZAYN

Worship: Ari Abdul

Shameless: Camila Cabello

Daryl Dixon was known to have a short temper, and an even shorter patience tolerance. When Michonne and Gabriel sent him on a supply run with none other than you, he knew that he would have to keep his cool or he will lose his mind and he can't risk that. He thought that if he just ignored the way his breath hitched in his throat when your breasts bounce in your black tank top with every step you take to his motorcycle.

"Hiya, Daryl!" You call as you sling your bow and arrow over your shoulder before making yourself comfortable on his bike.

He just grunts in return before kicking the kickstand up and taking off. Your hands wrap around his torso and he takes a deep breath as he reminds himself that he needs to breathe through his nose or he is gonna pass out.

---

You hummed to yourself as you walked through the store in a small run down town. It was a clothing store, or well was once before the world ended. Clothes were hanging on the racks and then you saw the underwear section. It was perfect. You needed new panties and you knew that some of the other ladies at Alexandria would enjoy new pairs. You went to the shelves and started packing as many as you could before turning to Daryl when you found some see through lace panties.

"Hey, Daryl?" You ask quietly.

"What? Ya good?" He asked, small panic rushing into his brain. Hopefully you didn't hurt yourself. He had only left you in that section of the store for maybe five minutes.

"Do you think these would make my butt look good?" You ask with a serious face while holding up the undergarments.

"For fuck's sake!" He groaned as he turns away. "Don't ask stupid shit like that." He takes a moment before turning back around and replied, "Yes they would make your butt look good."

You turned away from him with a smile. You grabbed a couple more like that pair in your size and threw them into your pack. After searching a couple more store, you and Daryl started back into the woods and went tracking for something to eat. Night fell upon the two of you before you knew it and you looked for a place to set up camp in a small house just a few miles from the town.

Checking to see if there were any walkers, you and Daryl made your way into the semi-decent house. It was no where near perfect but it would be good for the night before you leave for the next town in the morning.

Daryl came into the house with some firewood and threw it into the fireplace. You looked around the house for lanterns to have light and lit some matches inside of them. Once the house had some light, it dawned on you that it was just you and Daryl in this house. The fireplace sent a yellowish orange lighting onto Daryl and his blue eyes shone in contrast to the lighting. You stood at the stove and was heating up some beans and bread that you had found in a store. You smiled at idea of living with Daryl and cooking for him. You smiled at the idea of a possible normal life as normal as it could be in the end of the world.

Sitting down across from Daryl, the two of you ate your food. Daryl kept his eyes on his bowl and didn't look up at you until you cleared your throat.

"You don't like me, do you?"

Daryl put his spoon in his bowl, shoveling a bunch of the beans into his mouth before setting the bowl on the floor beside him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then he turned his head to look at you. He fought to keep his eyes connected to yours instead of looking at your rising and falling chest. God he felt like he was a creep, like he was a teenager again. It wasn't him trying to sexualize you, he really didn't mean to but when you were looking at him like that, breathing like that, he was really struggling to maintain eye contact.

"I don't hate ya," He says, his blue eyes darting in between yours and the wall behind you.

You shuffle closer to him before placing your hand on his chin, turning his face to you. His eyes stayed on your face, suddenly he was at a loss of words, not that he had many in the first place but still.

"If you didn't hate me, you would be able to look at me for more than two seconds before scoffing and turning away," You giggle with a smile and then move closer. "What is it about me that you don't like looking at?"

You had the biggest crush on Daryl Dixon and you barely tried to hide it from anyone but him. He was tall, strong, handsome, and very, very good at protecting people. He had a hard exterior, but he was really a big softy for the people he cared for. How could you not like him?

"There isn't anythin' 'hat I don't like lookin' at," He says, blush creeping up his face. "I jus' don't know why ya make me crazy."

"I make you go crazy, Daryl?" You ask. "You have no idea how crazy you make me."

Your faces creep closer, you were basically straddling the archer as you pressed yourself closer to his body, desperate for his warmth. Your eyes flicker to his lips quickly before snapping back to his cool eyes. You wondered what his lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like running over your body.

Daryl's hands came up to your face to move some hair out of your eyes and he cupped your jaw. He tilted his head up, barely, almost brushing your plump lips. Your lips part slightly, ready to grant Daryl's full permission to do whatever he wanted to do to yours. Just as the distance was about to close, your eyes closing, breathing heavily, a walker's growl could be heard from outside the window and Daryl all but throws you off him (not really much of a throw, just nudging you off him quickly), and he takes care of the walker. He stabs the monster in the head, blood splattering onto his face and clothes before he turns to you and then walks out of the house.

----

Making your way through the woods, Daryl refused to say anything to you. You had tried to make small talk but he ignored you. He kept walking as he scanned for prey, hopefully a deer or a pig. He didn't really care, as long as he had something to kill and take his mind off the way that you made him feel last night. You were so much younger than himself and he didn't want to seem like a creepy old man who would nut in his pants from just seeing your tits bounce a few times.

Daryl would have intense dreams where your tits were bouncing because you were bouncing on his dick and he was pulling your hair back so your neck was arched backwards and he would mark you up as his while you rode him.

He shook the thoughts from his mind as he remembers that you were right behind him. He turned to you to see you kneeling down by the ground, looking at tracks on the ground.

"What are ya lookin' at?" He asked, his voice startling you before you relaxed.

You looked up at him before pointing left.

"These are fresh tracks, looks like a deer."

"Good, let's go."

"I need to apologize about what happened last night," You said as you walked quietly.

"Shhh," He said.

"I really am sorry about that, Daryl, I don't know what overcame me."

"I said, shhh, girl."

Just as you crept down behind a fallen tree, the deer walked out from behind the tall grass and started to eat at the fallen nuts on the ground. As much as you were hoping to be able to pay attention, Daryl's scent filled your nose as you realized how close you were and you could feel your panties dampen at the sight in front of you. You looked at Daryl and saw his thick muscles of his arms flex as he lifted his crossbow and aimed at the deer. You watched as he licked his lips gently as he closed one of his eyes. You watched his chest move with his breathing. You noticed everything. You needed to get this deer and then get back home before you tried to fuck him right out in the open woods.

"Let's go home," you said as you loaded the deer onto his bike.

"We are supposed to hit another town just a few miles over," He said.

"Yes but we have a deer which will draw more walkers to us," You said. "Let's drop it off with our people and then come out again."

---

Daryl listened to you because he knew you would throw a fit and then he would want to fuck your attitude away. He didn't just want to fuck you, he wanted to love you. He wanted to come home to you every night, fuck you to sleep, and then cuddle with you as he tells you about his day. Before you, he never thought that he would want the "normal" life like everyone else. He never had anyone to come home to and he had become used to it. Now he wanted to share a home with you. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted to protect you.

While the two of you were camping out in the woods, your shirt and pants had been torn after a run in with a herd of walkers. You told Daryl that you were going to change and then you went behind his poncho hanging up on a branch. You thought that you were covered completely, but the poncho had other plans as it had fallen from the branch while you were turned away. Your entire body was on display for Daryl as you bent over in just your black panties to pick up a shirt you had gotten from the run down shop the other day.

Daryl knew that he should have turned away, to respect you, but something in his sick, twisted mind, he kept looking. He saw your skin shine in the bright moon light. He saw every curve you have and he wanted nothing more than to just mark every inch of your skin as his. You were his, even if you didn't know yet. He eventually couldn't handle it anymore and moved to pick up the poncho. His footsteps made you turn away but he had already covered you with the poncho.

"It slipped from the branch and I didn't want ya to be uncomfortable," He said as he stepped closer to cover your body completely.

"Thank you," You smile as you tilt your head up to look at him in his eyes. His hands were on your hips as he wrapped you up. You bit your lip softly and his thumb came up to release your bottom lip from your teeth, slowly stroking over it with such care. His eyes watched for your reaction and you had none but heavy breathing. He licked his own lips quickly and leaned in slightly, still checking your eyes for any sign of you not wanting his actions, finding none. Just as his lips were brushing yours, a hiss came from the fire as it died out and the world went dark.

He quickly pulled away and turned away from you. He cleared his throat and then muttered a quick "sorry" and then went to rebuild the fire.

---

Arriving back at your house after a few days being gone, you took a shower as soon as you got home. You walked into your room in just a towel before pulling out clothing from your closet. The shirt you picked out was one of Daryl's button downs that you stole when you were staying in his house before moving into your own.

Daryl walked up to your room as he needed to talk to you about the other night. He didn't know what had came over him but he needed to clear it up with you. He knocked on your door, thinking of all the things he would say but as soon as the door opened and you revealed that you were in just a shirt and panties. Just not any shirt, his shirt. His shirt was on your body. Your naked body. He didn't know what made him grab your face and pull you into a searing kiss, but he pulled your body closer to his as he walked you backwards into the room.

He kicked the door closed and turned you against it. He started to leave kisses down from your lips to your neck. He sucked at your pulse point and then your hands pulled his face back up to yours. His lips enclosed yours as you messily made out against your door. His hand went to the back of your knee and wrapped it around his hip, opening you up to him as his clothed core ground into yours as your hand found his hair. He let out a groan as your fingers twisted into his long strands.

Daryl's mouth pressed against yours as he swallowed your every sound as you whimpered for more. Daryl's fingers slid down to your panties and teased your clit behind the fabric. His fingers glided against your clothed clit in tight circles as you moaned for him, begging him to fuck you. A smirk came over his face as your head lulled back, opening your neck to him. He started to suck on your sweet spot as his fingers slid your underwear to the side and sunk in to the knuckle.

"Fuuuuuck," You groan as Daryl's fingers started to pump in and out of your body. Daryl smiled at you as he slowly kissed lower and lower as he removed his hand from your panties to rip open his shirt. He kissed down your body, slowly sucking on your nipples and lulling his tongue over the nipple before biting it softly, causing you to gasp in slight pain.

"You like it when I touch ya like this?" He asks, running his middle finger up your slit before popping it into his mouth to suck the juices off of it. "Fuck, ya sweeter than I thought."

"Daryl," You moan as he slowly kisses your thighs, your back arching off the wall.

"Move to the bed and spread your legs for me like a good littl' slut," He demands. The derogatory name made you feel more slick drip from your pussy.

Daryl slowly pulled his shirt over his head, wincing as your eyes roam over his scars. He goes to put his shirt back on but you move to stop him.

"Don't hide from me," You say softly. "You're beautiful."

You move to the edge of the bed and press a kiss to the scar on his chest, then the one on his torso. You lick up the one on his collarbone. You turn him around and you kiss each one on his back. You trace them as if you were tracing roads on a map.

"You are so beautiful, Daryl," You whisper against his skin before turning him around to face you. "Every inch of you is beautiful, even the damaged parts."

Something snaps inside of him and he pushes you back gently and he crawls over you like a predator to his prey. He kissed your lips and then he started to kiss down your body, tracing every curve into his muscle memory. He wanted to savor this into his mind forever.

"Did I ever tell ya 'hat ya make me crazy?" He asks.

"Maybe once before," You giggle but it quickly turn into a moan when he licks up your pussy. You grip onto the sheets, holding you grounded to earth before you floated away. Daryl notices you holding onto the sheets and he grabs your hands, making you think that he just wanted to hold them but he then moves them to his hair. He nods at you and then curls his tongue inside you which makes you cry out and tug at his hair. He moans against you and slips a finger inside your weeping hole which he then pays more attention to your clit with his tongue.

"Cum for me," he moans against you. His eyes watch as the band inside your stomach snaps as he continues to add another finger and play with your cunt. Your hips start to wiggle away from him but he pulls your body flush against his face as there is no room for any air for him to possibly breathe. All he could breathe in was you. He could only see you, taste you, and breathe you. He was alive for you and this sole moment.

Eventually Daryl had pulled two more climaxes out of you and he then starts to kiss back up your twitching body. He rolls over and goes to cuddle you but you lay there confused.

"We are not done," You smile before climbing onto his thigh. Slotting your legs on each side, you slowly start to grind down onto him. He sits up and places his hands onto your hips, helping your movements.

"Fuck ya such as whore for me, ya gotta fuck my thigh?" He says with a smirk.

"Please," You moan out, head falling back.

Daryl pushes you off of him long enough to take his pants and underwear off and then he pats his lap, beckoning you to come closer. You move into his lap and he places your hands on his shoulders as he moves his cock to be lined up with your entrance.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks, making sure that you were one hundred percent certain that you wanted him to do this.

"Please, Daryl, just fuck me!" You groan out and then Daryl eases his tip into your weeping pussy.

"Fuck," You moan as you slowly stretch on his dick. "Please, just get inside me!"

Daryl looks at you for one second, taking in your face before cupping your cheek. He then snaps his hips forward and his entire dick goes inside you, kissing your cervix lightly. You scream at the intrusion and he gently soothes your hair as he speaks praise into your ear. He then pulls almost all the way out and then snaps back inside harshly. Your hands cling to his shoulders as one arm wraps around his neck and grip onto his shoulder. Daryl's arm wraps around your torso and the other hooks under your arm and his hand grips your shoulder, squeezing tightly as he pounds into your pussy with slow, harsh thrusts.

You head falls backward as Daryl's fingers wrap into your hair and pulls your face closer to his so he roughly kiss you. It was messy, all teeth and spit dripping everywhere. Your lips moved in fierce movements as they tried to keep up with each others. Your hips bounced against Daryl's as the two of you tried to get to the finish line. Daryl grips you tightly before using his body weight to flip the two of you over and he catches himself with one arm on the bed as your legs wrapped around his torso, your arms holding onto him for dear life as he fucked into you with punishing thrusts.

Daryl's dick moved inside of you in fast, rough movements, hitting your cervix at times but was always hitting your g-spot. Your head was thrown back as you cling to him and he moves one hand to the headboard as he stares down at you, your hair laying out around your head like a crown and he whimpered when your pussy clenched around his thick cock. He gently moved your legs down from his torso and spread you out further as he moved back onto his knees, leaning over through his arms to kiss your forehead before he reared his hips back, and snapped them forward, driving home in a hard thrust.

You scream in pleasure and borderline pain but it was so good. You dig your nails into Daryl's back as he drops his head into your neck as his hands are clinging to the headboard that was beating a possible hole into the wall as you plant one hand against the base of the headboard to keep your head from slamming into it. Your mouth is agape as Daryl nibbles on your collarbone as his hips slam into yours, surely leaving bruises that you will feel for days after this.

"Fuck ya look so pretty, looking at me like that," He moans as you throw your head back into the pillows, begging him for more, to make you come.

"You wanna cum?" He asks, one of his hands slipping from the headboard and coming down to rub fast circles on your clit, adding fuel to the fire that is boiling inside your core. Your body screamed for release.

"You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" He smirks. "Fuck ya feel so good, baby. This pussy was built for me. God, I don't 'ver wanna leave it. Jesus, look at that. Your pussy is just sucking me in, she don't want me to leave either."

You moan at his filthy words before begging him to let you cum. Your hands reach for his neck and pulls him down to kiss him. Just as his lips brush against yours, the band inside you snaps and you let out a muffled scream against his lips. He was close already before you came but after feeling you cum around his cock, he knew that it was just a matter of time before he cumming all over you.

"Daryl, cum inside me."

Those four words made his hips snap faster against yours and then you felt him still against you, then a warm liquid spilled inside you as Daryl's body shuddered above you. You heard him whimper and groan as more and more ropes of thick cum spilled from his dick. Your hands rub up and down his back as you kissed his collarbone.

Daryl rolled over and pulled you with him, lifting you off his softening dick and then covered you both with your blanket. He kissed your forehead and moved the few strands of hair from your face and then kissed your lips.

"Can I ask a question?" You ask as you draw circles on his chest.

Daryl just grunts in response.

"Do you still not like me?"

"I swear to God woman. You still think I don't like ya?"

"Well, I can't be too careful," You smile up at him. "So do you like me?"

He leaned his head down and kissed you on the lips, soft and slow, before fulling back.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks with a huff.

"I'm not fully convinced," You smile before climbing back on top of him and starts pressing kisses to his neck.

"Ya're gonna kill me, woman!" He groans with a smile before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a crushing kiss, rolling on top of you to further prove that he likes you.

Maybe he does like you. But who can really tell?

[pandapetals]

Blizzard

logan howlett x fem!reader - snow blizzard, origins logan, fluff, car crash, strangers to lovers, logan being soft, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan finds you in the middle of a snow storm and brings you back to his cabin.

prompt idea from @Silverskyeline from their logan promptober: #29-origins - decided to post it early

The snow fell heavily outside the small cabin, blanketing the mountain in thick layers of white. Logan stood in front of the window, the warmth from the crackling fire at his back contrasting with the biting cold beyond the glass. He watched the flurries swirl in the wind, a sigh escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his thick hair. The storm had come in faster than he’d anticipated, but at least the cabin was stocked—wood for the fire, enough food to last him through the worst of it.

He was used to this, the isolation, the deep quiet that came with living so far from anyone else. He liked it. Out here, in the mountains, he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to deal with anyone. Just him and the cold.

The sharp crack of something breaking in the distance pierced the silence. Logan’s senses went on high alert. He paused, listening. The wind howled against the cabin, but underneath it, he could hear it—the unmistakable sound of metal twisting and groaning under pressure.

A crash.

It was distant, maybe a mile off, but in these conditions, anything could happen. Someone could be out there, stranded. He cursed under his breath, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. The snow was deep, the storm unforgiving, but Logan didn’t hesitate. He pulled on his boots, grabbed a lantern from the counter, and stepped out into the night.

The cold hit him hard, the wind biting at his skin, but he moved through it with practiced ease. His boots crunched in the snow as he made his way down the mountain, his breath coming in steady puffs in the icy air. He followed the sound, every sense sharpened as he pushed forward through the blizzard.

Through the thick blanket of white, he saw it—a car, its front end smashed into a tree, half-buried in the snow. The headlights flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows in the storm.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Whoever was in that car wasn’t getting out anytime soon.

He quickened his pace, his heart beating faster. Reaching the wreck, he peered through the broken window, snow and shards of glass clinging to the seats. That’s when he saw you—slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious, your face pale, lips tinged blue from the cold.

“Shit,” Logan muttered under his breath. He didn’t waste a second. Reaching through the shattered window, he carefully pulled you out, cradling your limp body against his chest. You were freezing, your clothes soaked through, your skin cold as ice.

Logan held you closer, shielding you from the wind as he began the trek back to his cabin. His breath came in ragged clouds, but he pushed forward, every step a battle against the storm. He could feel your shallow breaths against his chest, and he tightened his grip on you, moving faster, determined to get you out of the cold.

By the time he reached the cabin, the snow had piled up around the door, and his muscles burned from the effort. He kicked open the door, stepping inside as the warmth from the fire hit them both.

Gently, he laid you down on the worn leather couch, your body still trembling with the cold. Without a word, Logan grabbed blankets, wrapping them tightly around you before moving to the fire, stoking the flames higher. He worked quickly, methodically, his mind focused on one thing: getting you warm.

Kneeling beside the couch, Logan checked your pulse. It was faint but steady. He exhaled, relief flooding through him, though the furrow between his brows didn’t ease.

Hours passed, the storm raging outside, but inside, the cabin was warm, filled with the soft crackle of the fire and the steady rise and fall of your breathing. Logan sat in the armchair across from the couch, watching over you, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked between the storm outside and your still figure, his mind racing with questions. Who were you? What were you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere?

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the warmth—a heavy cocoon of blankets wrapped around you, and the steady heat of a fire casting a soft, flickering glow across the room. Your head throbbed, and your limbs felt weighed down like you were moving through water. You blinked against the dim light, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

You weren’t in your car, that much was obvious. Panic flared briefly, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through you until your gaze landed on the figure sitting across the room, his hazel eyes watching you with quiet intensity.

He didn’t move at first, just sat there, studying you in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a low grunt, he rose to his feet, his broad frame moving with a kind of rough grace as he crossed the small space between the armchair and the couch.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, yet with a note of concern beneath the gruffness.

Your throat was dry, and it came out as a hoarse rasp when you tried to speak. “Where... where am I?”

“My cabin,” he replied, kneeling down beside you. “Found you crashed about a mile out. You’re lucky I heard it.”

The memory hit you all at once—the slippery road, the tires skidding, the sickening crunch of metal and glass. You winced, the dull ache in your muscles flaring up with each small movement. “I... thank you,” you whispered, your gaze drifting up to meet his. There was something rugged about him, a wildness in his rough features, but his eyes—those hazel eyes—held a faint, unexpected softness.

He gave a small grunt, as if brushing off your gratitude, and stood up. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone rough around the edges but carrying a hint of something gentler, something unspoken. “You’re safe here.”

As he walked off toward the kitchen, you watched him, recognition slowly dawning. You’d seen him before, around town—gathering supplies, carrying bags of groceries. Your mom, who owned the local market, had mentioned him more than once, always with a curious glint in her eye as she spoke of the "handsome man who worked at the lumberyard."

So this was him. The mysterious man everyone in town whispered about but who always kept to himself.

You let out a breath, the tension slowly ebbing from your body as you sank deeper into the couch. The fire’s warmth enveloped you, and you allowed yourself to relax, reassured by his calm presence. He was right. You needed the rest, and for now, at least, you were safe.

From the kitchen, you could hear the faint clatter of dishes and the low hum of his voice—rough, like the man himself—as he muttered to himself while he prepared something. The cabin smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine, with a lingering trace of whatever he was cooking.

You closed your eyes, letting the comfort of the blankets and the crackle of the fire lull you back into a hazy half-sleep, where the lines between your dreams and the waking world blurred. There, the memory of your crash slowly faded away, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the quiet presence of the man who had saved you.

Over the next few days, the storm didn’t let up. The snow piled higher, trapping you both inside the cabin. Logan moved around with practiced ease, chopping wood and cooking simple meals, all the while keeping a close but quiet eye on you. He wasn’t a man of many words, but there was a comfort in his presence—solid, dependable.

And slowly, you found yourself drawn to him.

It started with small things—the way his eyes would linger on you for just a moment too long, or the way his gruff exterior softened when he caught you watching the fire, lost in thought. You began to notice the little things about him—how he moved with quiet efficiency, how he always made sure the fire was stoked, how he would set an extra blanket on your side of the couch without saying a word.

One evening, as the storm howled outside, you found yourselves sitting together by the fire, the quiet between you more comfortable now. Logan sat in his usual armchair, a book in his hand, though you weren’t sure he was actually reading it. You were wrapped in a blanket on the couch, your body finally feeling stronger, though the cold still clung to your bones.

“Do you live out here alone?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Logan glanced up, his hazel eyes flickering in the firelight. “Yeah.”

You nodded, watching the flames dance. “It’s peaceful.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze on you, its quiet weight making your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. “Not used to havin’ company,” he admitted after a long pause. “But… it’s not so bad.”

You smiled, the warmth in his voice surprising you. “Glad to hear I’m not too much of a bother.”

He chuckled a low sound that sent a shiver through you. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You caught his eye, and for the first time since you arrived, Logan didn’t look away. He held your gaze, his expression softening, the hard lines of his face easing as the quiet grew heavier.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “Why were you driving in the middle of a snowstorm, anyway?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was no accusation in it—just quiet curiosity, the same unspoken concern that had been there since the night he’d found you.

You shifted under the blanket, your fingers absently running along the worn edges, the question hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t something you wanted to talk about, but the way Logan was looking at you—steady, unflinching, with that quiet intensity—made it hard to keep your walls up.

“I didn’t know the storm would hit so fast,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “I was trying to make it to my family’s cabin… hadn’t been there in a while.”

Logan’s gaze remained on you, unwavering, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, the furrow between his brows deepening slightly like he understood what you weren’t saying. His hand, rough and calloused from years of hard work, rested on the arm of his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the wood as he listened.

“I needed some space,” you continued, your voice growing quieter, almost as if you were talking to yourself now. “Things have been… complicated.”

Logan’s eyes flickered, something unspoken passing through them. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, closing the distance between you just a little. “Complicated, huh?”

You smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah. Running seemed like the best option at the time.”

A short, humorless chuckle escaped Logan’s lips, and he shook his head slightly. “I get that.” His voice was quiet, almost resigned as if he knew more about running than he cared to admit.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, the warmth from the fire and Logan’s proximity easing some of the lingering tension in your chest. “What about you?” you asked, your voice soft. “Why live out here alone?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking briefly to the fire before settling back on you. There was a pause, long enough for you to think he wouldn’t answer at all. Then, with a sigh, he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s... simpler, out here. No one to answer to. No one to hurt.”

You caught the shadow that crossed his face, the way his jaw tightened slightly as if he were holding back something heavier.

You could feel the weight behind them—the years of pain and isolation, of running from something, or maybe someone.

“I get that,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his again, this time with a deeper understanding. There was a kind of sadness between the two of you, unspoken but shared, and it created a quiet bond, a connection you hadn’t expected to feel.

For a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of the fire crackling and the soft hiss of the wind outside. You could feel Logan watching you, the air between you thick with something that felt both comforting and dangerous, like standing too close to the edge of a cliff but not wanting to step back.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, the rough edges of his voice smoothing out as he spoke again. “You’re not alone in that.”

His words hung in the air, quiet but heavy, and something inside you shifted. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a hint of the man beneath the gruff exterior. You didn’t know his whole story—he hadn’t offered it, and you hadn’t asked—but in that moment, you didn’t need to. There was enough in the way he looked at you, in the quiet understanding that had settled between the two of you.

Logan finally glanced away as the moment passed, but the connection between you remained, subtle and steady, like the flickering flames that danced between you both.

The next morning, the storm had settled into a quiet lull, but snow still piled high against the cabin’s walls. You woke wrapped in the warmth of blankets, the fire now little more than glowing embers. For a moment, you just lay there, listening to the soft crackle of the remaining flames and the steady rhythm of Logan moving about the cabin. The weight of yesterday’s conversation lingered in your mind—the quiet, vulnerable way he’d spoken, as though he understood you on a level no one else had.

You sat up, pulling the blankets tighter around you, watching Logan as he stood near the small kitchen area, brewing a pot of coffee. His broad back was to you, muscles flexing beneath his flannel shirt as he moved with the same easy, efficient grace he always seemed to have. He hadn’t noticed you watching yet, and for a moment, you let yourself just look, taking in the quiet strength in his every movement.

Logan turned, catching your eye. He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod as if to acknowledge that you were awake but not wanting to break the quiet. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low and a little rougher than usual.

“Mornin’,” you echoed, your voice still soft with sleep.

He poured two mugs of coffee, walked over to you, and handed you one without a word. His fingers brushed yours for just a second as you took the mug, the heat of his touch lingering longer than it should have. You both sipped in silence for a moment, the weight of yesterday’s unspoken understanding still hanging between you.

You broke the quiet first. “Storm’s let up a little,” you said, glancing out the window, where the world was still blanketed in snow but calmer now, the wind no longer howling.

Logan followed your gaze, his jaw tightening just slightly. “Yeah, but it’ll take time to clear the roads. You’ll be stuck here a while longer.”

You nodded, part of you relieved by the thought of staying. Being trapped in the cabin didn’t feel like a burden anymore—not with Logan here. Not with the strange, quiet connection that had been growing between you since he’d found you in the snow.

“I don’t mind,” you said, the words coming out before you could stop them. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Logan’s expression didn’t change. He just looked at you, his hazel eyes steady and unreadable for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, his voice low but warm.

There was a pause, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension. You didn’t know what to say next, how to bridge the gap between where you were and where you both seemed to be heading, but Logan broke the quiet this time, setting his mug down on the table with a soft thud.

“You should eat somethin’,” he said, his voice gruff again, as if retreating back to his usual, rough-around-the-edges demeanor. “Can’t have you starvin’ on me.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Alright, chef. What’s on the menu?”

He snorted, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Don’t expect much. I ain’t exactly a gourmet.”

A quiet laugh escaped you as the warmth of the fire and Logan’s steady presence eased the tension in your chest. The moment passed into a comfortable routine—Logan moving around the small kitchen, you sipped your coffee, the silence between you filled with the soft sounds of the cabin settling into the morning.

Even in the quiet, you could feel it—that subtle, simmering tension that seemed to build every time Logan caught your eye or brushed past you. The way his presence filled the cabin, grounding and unshakable, made it impossible to ignore the growing pull between you.

By the time breakfast was over, the snow had eased into a soft, steady fall outside, but the cabin still felt like its own little world—separate from everything beyond the snow-covered trees.

You found yourself standing by the window, watching the flurries drift down when Logan came up beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, the heat from his body radiating through the small space between you. 

“How long have you been out here?” you asked, your breath fogging the window as you spoke.

Logan shrugged, his eyes focused on the snow outside. “A while. Don’t really keep track.”

You nodded, your gaze shifting from the snow to his face. His profile was strong and sharp, but there was a softness in the way he watched the world outside, like he was searching for something he’d lost a long time ago.

“Must get lonely,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Sometimes,” he admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. “But... it’s easier.”

You knew what he meant. Isolation was a choice, a shield to keep the rest of the world at arm’s length. It was easier to be alone, easier to avoid the complications that came with letting people in.

Yet standing there with Logan, the quiet warmth between you, it didn’t feel lonely. It felt... safe. Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t need to run from whatever it was you were both afraid of.

Logan turned to face you fully, his hazel eyes searching yours. “You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now, his usual gruffness replaced with something gentler.

You nodded, feeling your heart beat a little faster under the intensity of his gaze. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Just... thinking.”

Logan didn’t press, didn’t ask for more. He just stood there, watching you with that quiet intensity that had drawn you in from the moment you met. At that moment, the cabin felt smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. It was a simple gesture, tentative, but the second your skin touched his, you felt that same spark—familiar, yet new. Logan’s eyes darkened just slightly, his hand shifting to hold yours, rough but gentle.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of it all—the snowstorm, the isolation, the quiet connection that had been building—settled around you both like a blanket. And then, slowly, Logan stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours, his hand warm in yours.

You felt your heart stutter, the tension between you palpable. Time seemed to slow, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

Logan broke the silence, his voice low as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “This... okay?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered, your breath catching as his face hovered inches from yours.

The air between you crackled with something unspoken, something both of you had been dancing around since the night he carried you through the snow.

Without another word, Logan closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss filled with the same warmth that had been building between you all along.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 4)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: As the hunt begins, you try to make it back to town before one of your captors can carry out their murderous plan. But it isn't long until one of them finds you... Word Count: 6037 TW: NOT ALL TWS MAY BE MENTIONED SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Language, Hunted for Sport, Knives, Blood, Reader has hair long enough to grab, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thanks to @green-socks for the beta read and to @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, and @blue-aconite for all the constant love, and encouragement in my DMs 💕

Series Masterlist

The freshly fallen snow stretches for miles in all directions. Your head is still pounding where Rooster drove his elbow into it but at least your vision has mostly returned to normal. Now that you have left the clearing with its electric lanterns, your eyes begin to adjust to the natural lighting around you. Luckily—or maybe not so luckily—the moon is nearly full and reflecting off the snow around you, allowing you to avoid crashing into the trees directly in front of you. That doesn’t stop branches from snagging on your jacket or underbrush from scratching at your bare legs and feet and you still can’t see more than a few feet in front of you, but you are trying to find any positives in your current situation.

Who are you kidding—there’s nothing positive about your current situation.

You’ve been drugged, assaulted, stripped down, and are being forced to flee from a pair of psycho killers who plan on murdering you in ways you can’t possibly even fathom. All while you’re barefoot and wearing a jacket that stands out so starkly against the snow that it might as well be a neon sign saying “come and get me”. 

But on top of all that, the worst part is that there’s no way to cover your tracks as you go. The snow is several inches deep and with every step you take, you sink into the soft powder leaving a clear imprint behind that either of the men chasing you can easily follow. You could try to take the time to cover your tracks, but that’s much easier said than done, and even in the best-case scenario, it would still be noticeable something had disturbed the snow. Besides, it would just stall your escape, allowing them to get closer, and it would further numb your already frozen hands as you dug through the snow.

So, no. Continuing forward is the only slim chance you have of making it to safety and out of your captors’ clutches. 

The only slight advantage you may have over them is that neither man seemed too familiar or comfortable in the snowy terrain. You, on the other hand, have lived in this area your entire life. Hell, you’ve been coming out to these woods for as long as you can remember. That has to count for something, right? Maybe under normal conditions it would, but between the lingering effect of the drugs they used on you, the throbbing in your head from Rooster’s blow, the burning pain in your hands and feet, and the cold making it difficult to even breathe, you aren’t able to navigate as easily as normal. So once again, whatever upper hand you might have come up with is snatched away from you.

Even knowing it is a useless endeavor, you still refuse to give up without some sort of a fight. So, with your hands jammed deep within your jacket’s pockets and your hood pulled as tightly around your face as possible, you continue to run forward in a straight line as you try to think up some way to fight back.

You aren’t sure how far you’ve gotten or how long you’ve been running, but you freeze as you hear something from the direction you had run from. The voice echoes around the barren woods and you manage to make out the last few words. “—run. Hangman’s coming.”

Shit. It seems as though your head start is over and the hunt has officially begun.

The fact you are still close enough to the clearing to be able to hear Hangman’s whoop of excitement sends a shiver through you—one not caused by the cold. While you’d much rather deal with Hangman than Rooster every time, escape or evasion from both men is still your ultimate goal. If only you had a weapon or some sort of protection against the two heavily armed men. But they must have emptied your jacket pockets before handing it over and your tank top and boy shorts barely provide any protection from the cold, let alone anything that could be used against your pursuers. For now, your only chance is to keep running and hope, by some miracle, you can evade them. 

As you run, time seems to stand still. You feel as if you are on a treadmill, running as fast as you can yet remaining in one place. You have no idea how long it has been since you took off from the clearing, but everything looks the same. The same towering trees and bushes reaching out from the darkness towards you, the moonlight only seemingly illuminating a few dozen feet in front of you at one time. The same unmarked snow stinging your feet as you sink into it with every step, a troublesome numbness spreading from your little toes across to the others. The same silence enveloping you, the only sound breaking it is the sound of your panting and chattering teeth. 

But then…another sound breaks the silence.

There is a soft whoosh from behind you seconds before something drives itself into your left shoulder. You collapse into the snow with a cry of pain, twisting around to see a long, thin knife jutting from your shoulder blade. Luckily, your coat managed to deflect most of the damage, but you can still feel hot blood oozing down your back, leaving a warm trail in its wake.

As you reach for the knife, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through your shoulder, a voice calls out from the dark maze of trees, “If you thought my dart skills were impressive, darlin’, just wait ‘til you get a taste of what I can do with a blade.”

You hear another whoosh and you just have time to roll sideways as another knife lodges in the snow, exactly where your knee had been seconds ago. The move had saved you from being incapacitated, but the quick jostling causes the knife still in your shoulder to sway violently back and forth and you are forced to bite your lip to keep from wailing. The taste of copper fills your mouth, but you would rather bite through your tongue than give Hangman the satisfaction of hearing you scream. 

You take a deep breath before yanking the knife out of your shoulder with a stifled moan. 

Flexing your hand, you’re relieved to see the knife didn’t seem to cause any nerve or mobility damage. You didn’t need another thing to add to your growing list of disadvantages. 

Grabbing the second knife as you heave yourself to your feet, you spin around brandishing both knives in front of you. Hangman is close enough to nail you with a knife, but he is still far enough away to remain cloaked in darkness. This means the next attack could come from any direction, and, if you’re not careful, it could be deadly.

“You know,” the voice calls out to you from your left and you swiftly turn towards the sound. “I was so sure Rooster would find you first. I haven’t seen him this set on winning a hunt since we found a girl outside of Boston who looked like his ex-girlfriend. Oof, the things he did to her that night. Even I got a little nauseous. So I can only imagine the look on his face when he walks up and sees me on top of you, slowly carving you up or having more fun like we did back at the bar.” 

You shutter as you recall the feeling of his tongue in your mouth back before you knew what a psycho he was. His voice continues to taunt you from the darkness. “Or, better yet, I want to watch his face as he stumbles on your corpse hanging from one of these trees. Remind him exactly why they call me Hangman.”

“You sick fuck,” you cry, still brandishing your knives in the direction of his voice. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because we enjoy it.” His voice now comes from your right and you nearly trip over your frozen feet as you face it. “Because we can. Because there’s nothing better in this world than snatching someone like you and dropping them into a place like this where they don’t stand a chance. It’s the natural order of things that humans have either forgotten or hidden away because we’ve been told it’s wrong. But what is more right than a predator hunting its prey?”

Panting slightly, causing large puffs of your breath to bloom in front of your face, you call out, “This is where you made your mistake, dickhead. I’m not your timid ‘little fox’ who you threw into an unfamiliar arena. Around here, we’re raised in these woods. Taught to hunt almost before we can walk. So if you think I’m gonna just lay down without a fight, you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got me all wrong.” You whirl around, knives raised, to face the sound of his voice behind you. “I don’t want you to give up or give in. I’m ready for a fight. That’s what makes this fun.” 

With that last word, another knife shoots out at you from the darkness. You have just enough time to dive backwards before it passes over you, inches from your face. But before you can scamper back to your feet, Hangman is charging out of the woods towards you. As he reaches you, knife raised, you thrust your feet up, driving them into his stomach. Using his forward momentum, you flip him over your head and he ends up on his back gasping in the snow. The knife he had been holding in his hand disappears into the snow somewhere to the left but far enough away he can’t reach it.

As Hangman continues to struggle to catch his breath behind you, you scamper to your feet. Grinning as you approach your would-be attacker, you chuckle, “And my ex said those self-defense classes were a load of bull.” With your hands resting on your knees as you peer down at him, you ask Hangman in a cloying voice, “How’s those solar plexus feeling? Little winded there, buddy?”

He glares up at you with murder burning in his eyes but even as he struggles to sit up, he’s helpless until he has a moment to collect himself. That thought only makes your grin grow wider. 

Stepping over his waist, you sit down—hard—on his stomach, causing him to let out another oof as the air is knocked out of him once again. Pressing the knives he had previously thrown at you against either side of his neck, you drop the smile as you growl, “Now listen, you fucker. I’m not like you. I haven’t enjoyed a second of any of this and I’m not the kind of person who likes hurting others—even pieces of shit psycho murderers like you. So, I’m going to walk away from here and you’re not going to follow me. In fact, you’re going to go find your psychotic friend and you’re both going to get back in your truck and drive the fuck out of my life forever. And for that small gesture of human decency, I won’t turn you in to the cops when I reach town. We all just go about our lives like this never happened and you never come after me again. Do we have a deal?”

“What if I say no?” he pants, the murderous glint in his eyes suddenly taking on a more mischievous gleam to it. “You said it yourself, you’re no killer. So what’s your plan if I decide I’ll take my chances against you? You really think you can plunge those things into me? Watch the life fade from my eyes as my blood soaks onto your hands? That’s a stain you’ll never be able to wash out. Me? I’d bathe in blood every day if I got the chance. But can you live with that stain on your hands for the rest of your life?”

“Considering it meant I lived through this nightmare you put me through, I think I’d be fine. But should we test that theory?” You press the tips of the blades deeper into his neck and you feel him flinch beneath you. The movement is slight and he maintains a blank expression, but that little, involuntary motion is enough to boost your confidence in your plan. Seems you are making your point. “Besides, I said I don’t like hurting people, not that I wouldn’t. Believe me, if it comes down to either you or me, I’ll choose me every time. But I’d rather not kill anyone if I have another option. So, what do you say? You let me walk away or you get skewered with your own knives? Your choice.”

Hangman glares at you for a long time and you can almost see his mind at work trying to figure out another way out of this. But when you drive the knives in deeper, blood trickling down his neck into the white snow, he snarls, “Alright! I’ll let you go. But I can’t make any promises about Rooster. Once he starts a hunt, there’s no stopping him until he’s tasted blood.”

You consider this for a moment then nod. “Fine. But he said the rules are that if I make it to town, I’m free. Right? So that means he’ll have to stop then.”

Hangman hesitates. “Yeah, those are the rules. But…”

“But what?”

“But it’s never happened before. No one’s ever made it to safety so I don’t know what he would actually do if you make it back to town before he catches you. Technically, he’s supposed to let you go but I wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck into your apartment a few days from now and slit your throat while you slept.”

Pressing the knives further into his skin, you growl, “How the fuck do you know I live in an apartment?”

“Your driver’s license was in your wallet,” he grunts, squirming under the pressure of the blades. “It’s one of the first things we look at. The anonymity of a random victim is more fun, but we have to make sure your disappearance wasn’t going to be noticed before we could leave town. So, we did a little research while you were still unconscious.”

Which means they probably know everything about you. Your real name, your address, your social media which means your friends and family. Even if you escape, there’s nothing stopping them from biding their time then returning to finish the job. However, none of that matters if you can’t survive the night.

You know this is a horrible idea. There is nothing to stop Hangman from coming after you the moment you remove the knives from his neck beside his word. And considering he’s a lying, psychotic serial killer, there’s very little doubt he’ll do just that the moment you let your guard down. But what else can you do? You think what you said to Hangman is true and you could kill him if it came down to it, but there is still a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. 

You had been hunting many times with your dad growing up and had killed your share of smaller animals before. But killing a squirrel and killing a person were two very different things. If you try yet fail and Hangman sees you can’t go through with it, then you lose any leverage you currently have which means there’s nothing left to stop him from overpowering and killing you. 

Then, there’s Rooster. Even if Hangman does hold up his side of your deal, you know deep down Rooster won’t. He was practically coming in his pants at the thought of all the unthinkable things he was going to do to you if he got his hands on you—and that was before you seemingly broke his nose. After that, there’s no way he’ll agree to let you go as long as you are still in the woods. And while you may have gotten lucky with Hangman and gotten the upper hand, you doubt you’d be able to recreate that feat with Rooster. Not when all he can think about is mutilating and murdering you. But maybe it would slow him down if he finds his friend and Hangman explains what happened. Maybe it would give you just enough time to reach town before he got his hands on you. Then there would be nothing stopping you from going back on your part of the deal and heading straight to the police station so these two could be stopped before they could finish their hunt.

Yet that unlikely plan hinged on Hangman truly agreeing to let you go which put you right back to the issue of not being able to trust him not to kill you.

Suddenly, you remember the noose he showed you back at camp he kept tied around his belt. Dropping one of your knives, you reach down and begin blindly reaching for the rope with one hand as the other still holds the knife to Hangman’s throat.

He chuckles as your hand brushes against something that is definitely not the rope. “Whoah there, sweetheart. If that’s what you wanted, I’d have given it to you back at the bar. All you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, you perverted bastard,” you mutter as you continue to fumble around his belt. Your fingers finally brush against something thin and coarse and, instinctually, you glance down to confirm you located your target.

It is a dire mistake.

Instantly, Hangman thrusts up and slams his head into yours. The knife you had pressed against his throat cuts a thin line across his skin, drawing blood, but isn’t deep enough to slow him down. His forehead drives into yours and the world goes black for a second as your head snaps backward, the knife flying from your grasp. You feel yourself fall back into the snow as Hangman climbs to his feet. By the time your vision begins to return to normal—though your head is once again throbbing in pain—he is standing over you in a similar gloating stance as to how you leered down at his prone body moments before, blood streaming down the side of his neck.

As a malicious grin slowly spreads across his face, Hangman holds up the rope. “Was this what you were looking for? Well, sweetheart, if you want it so badly, who am I to say no.”

Winding back his arm, he throws the noose end of the rope high into the air where it arches perfectly before soaring over a limb of a nearby tree and dropping back down just within his reach. It is the kind of throw only a trained athlete could pull off and, especially given his physique, it wouldn’t surprise you if you learned Hangman had played some form of pro sports at some point in his life. He also has the ego for it.

You try to crawl away from him across the frozen ground, but the world still hasn’t completely cleared and you slip and crash back into the snow. As you prop yourself up on your forearms once more, you feel yourself yanked to your feet as a hand grabs a fistful of your hair. A ripping, burning feeling tears at your scalp as you struggle in Hangman’s grasp, but it’s too strong. Tears sting your eyes in the frosty air as he begins dragging you on your stomach over to the limb where the noose swings ominously. 

It’s over. You had your chance to put down your attacker and you pussied out. Now he is going to kill you and there’s nothing else you can do to stop him. You wonder if anyone will ever find your body or if everyone will always just wonder where you disappeared. Maybe one day there will be an episode of 20/20 or a True Crime documentary on the bartender who just vanished one night after her shift and the theories of what might have happened to her. That makes you wonder how many of those shows or stories you’ve seen over the years were actually caused by these two and their group of psychopathic killers. 

Hangman releases his hold on your hair when he reaches his noose causing you to faceplant into the snow. You want to just lay there and just let the cold embrace of the snowbank take you, but of course, Hangman isn’t that generous. His foot drives into your side, kicking up slightly so it flips you over onto your back. Groaning, you clutch at your aching ribs but he isn’t giving you a moment of relief. He learned from his previous mistake. 

Grabbing the noose, he pulls it over until he is standing over you with it swinging in his hand. Grinning, he tugs on the knots as he stares down at you. “You know, I planned on drawing this out and making it really satisfying for me. But seeing how you weren’t a fan of my knives—or maybe enjoyed them a little too much—” he gestures to his neck where blood is still freely flowing from the slash you put there “—I think it’s time to move on to the grand finale, don’t you think? It’s my favorite part after all.”

On your back looking up at him, you try to scuttle away as he leans down to slip the noose over your neck. He lunges at you but you pull your legs away just in time to avoid his grasp. As you continue to crawl away, you notice the other side of the rope that is dangling from the limb is slowly unfurling and all the slack is getting pulled up into the tree as Hangman drags the noose along with him. In a moment, it’ll all slip up out of his reach or even all the way off the limb. The smallest smile flashes across your face at the realization.

Hangman must have noticed because his brow furrows for a moment before he looks over his shoulder. In doing so, he unconsciously pulls on the noose as his body turns and the rope jumps another few inches into the air. 

Hangman’s eyes grow wide as he mutters, “No, no, no, no.” 

Releasing the noose end, Hangman leaps up just as the other end of the rope goes soaring past. He just manages to snag the end of the rope between two fingers before it is out of reach. Then he crashes back to the ground.

Seeing your chance, you snatch the noose as it begins to rise up into the tree and, bounding forward, tackle Hangman just as he is sitting back up. He flails underneath you and one of his fists collides with your jaw, snapping your head back. You can taste blood as it begins pooling in your mouth, but you ignore it and the pain. Instead, you weave between Hangman’s continued flailing limbs and, just as he raises up to snarl at you, you slip the noose over his head. The action surprises him enough that he pauses for a few seconds as he processes what just happened.

But that’s all the time you need.

Grabbing the other end of the rope, you heave with every ounce of energy you have left. Hangman is a muscular guy, but somehow your efforts manage to tighten the noose around his neck, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. As he claws at the rope, you heave again, practically dragging yourself across the snow to get the needed leverage. The rope moves a little further and Hangman is lifted off the ground. It’s not much, but it’s enough that you can see he is struggling to breathe. Not wanting to make the mistake of underestimating him again, you give the rope one final pull. Given the energy you expended on the first few pulls, it was a much weaker effort, but it does the job. Hangman’s full body weight is now suspended by the rope.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood into the pure snow, you tie off your end of the rope on a nearby limb. After ensuring it won’t give him any slack, you take a few steps closer to where Hangman is thrashing on his rope. Grinning at the sight of his face growing redder and redder, you lock eyes with him and sneer, “Turns out, I’m really enjoying this grand finale after all. It’s my favorite part too.”

His lips move as he tries to snarl something back at you, but the rope around his neck is making it difficult for him to manage much more than some grunts and rasps. As his breathing begins to grow more frantic and strained, you see a shadow of fear pass over his face as his fate begins to become clearer to him. It is a sight that warms your entire body despite the frigid environment around you. 

Stepping forward so you are as close as possible while still just out of his reach, you murmur, “What you’re feeling right now, that fear and helplessness? That dread of knowing what’s about to happen yet knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it? That’s what all those women felt while they hung there while you got your rocks off. And I gotta say, I questioned whether or not I’d really be able to kill you. But now that it’s happening, I’ve never seen a more satisfying sight.”

Almost all the fight has gone out of Hangman as he weakly wheezes and meekly pulls at the rope. His eyes have become bloody as the blood vessels burst from all his straining and his face is so red it's almost purple. 

No longer afraid of the man who had beat, stabbed, and almost murdered you, you step closer until your face is nearly touching his chest. Looking up at his face swaying above you, you put all the fury, all the pain, all the fear you’ve felt over the past few hours into your words as you hiss, “I hope in whatever Hell I’m sending you to that you’re forced to relive this moment for all eternity.”

If Hangman heard or understood you, he makes no sign of it. Instead, it seems as if all his remaining energy is focused on getting out his last word or words. Even as you watch the last sparks of life flickering out, his lips continue to move as if trying to say something even as his chest begins to spasm due to lack of air. 

And, just as you think he’s done, he manages to force out a single breathy word that is only decipherable because you are practically pressed against him. 

“Bra-Bradley…”

Then his hands drop from his neck as his entire body goes slack and the woods fall silent. 

You stand looking up at him for a long time, holding your breath in anticipation of one last jump scare or resurgence. But this isn’t a movie. The evil is gone and Hangman’s not coming back for more. 

As the realization that it’s really over finally washes over you, you stumble back and collapse to the ground. All the fear and adrenaline that had kept you going since that first knife struck you in the shoulder, suddenly vanishes. 

For the first time, you feel the full impact of the injuries you’ve sustained. Your shoulder cries out from all the strain you’ve put on it, all with a stab wound still bleeding down your back. You just now notice how your tank top clings to your skin from all the blood and sweat that has soaked into it. Your jaw throbs from where Hangman’s fist collided with it, and you can tell it’ll be swollen and bruised in an hour or so. At least you have plenty of snow to press against it. Your scalp still stings from where Hangman pulled you across the ground by your hair and you really hope he didn’t make a bald spot somewhere. But it’s your ribs that hurt the most. It’s doubtful they are broken, probably just bruised, yet each breath sends a fresh stabbing pain into your side. It’ll cause the most issues as you continue on.

That thought almost makes you cry. Taking on Hangman had been difficult enough and you had barely escaped with your life. However, Rooster is still somewhere in these woods actively looking for you. Any head start you had is gone after all the time you took tussling with Hangman. And you have a feeling if Rooster was out for your blood before this, when he discovers you killed his friend, he’s going to want to carve you up with a rusty knife piece by tiny little piece. 

But maybe…

The only reason you were able to get the advantage against Hangman was because he underestimated you. He was too distracted by his own fun and games to really pay attention to what you were doing. Now, while you seriously doubt Rooster will make that same mistake—not after you headbutted him in the clearing—maybe he has a different distraction that will work on him. Namely, his rage and blood lust.

If you can get him so angry and ramp up his need to kill you so high, then maybe, just maybe, he will get sloppy and you’ll have a chance to take him down too. Maybe you can make him see red so strongly, that he won’t be able to see you going in for the kill.

Glancing back at Hangman’s limp body, you wonder if there’s a way to use it in this new plan. Maybe carve something into his skin with one of his knives? Like a message to Rooster saying you have Hangman’s weapons and he’s next? Very Die Hard of you.

It wouldn’t be that difficult to do. After all, Hangman isn’t that far in the air. In fact, the toes of his boots softly kiss the snow beneath him as he continues to sway.

His boots!

Ignoring the way your muscles scream at you as you move, you scramble to your knees and crawl over to Hangman’s dangling body. Your fingers are so numb and swollen from the cold that untying the tight laces is nearly impossible but you refuse to give up. By the time you can slide the second boot off his rapidly chilling body, your nails are cracked and your fingers are bleeding, ruby droplets coating the snow around you.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if it’s too morbid to also take his socks. However, the boots are several sizes too big and your feet are so frozen that you need to take whatever extra padding you can get. So you slip off his thick, woolen socks. You do draw the line at taking his pants though. As much as you would love some covering for your bare legs, you knew the fit would be way off and just slow you down as you tried to plan the rest of your escape. So, you resign yourself to your new socks and boots.

As you pull them on, the heat radiating from within the soft wool and worn leather feels like Heaven wrapped around your frostbitten feet. However, you can’t help but shudder at the knowledge this is the last warmth Hangman will ever give off. It’s almost like you can feel his hands wrapped around your ankles and trailing up your shins. 

You try your best to push those thoughts aside. After all, you only did what you had to do to survive. If the roles had been reversed and Hangman had won the hunt, he would currently be doing fuck knows what manner of twisted, ungodly things to your body. 

Just the thought of what he might have done reignites the fury and fight in your chest that had blazed when you watched Hangman get a taste of his own medicine. 

Turning back to his now shoeless body, you begin to doubt your original idea of carving a message into him. For one, you really don’t want to do it. Killing him was one thing but mutilating his body is a whole other ball game. Plus, you have terrible penmanship using a pen or pencil. There’s no telling if your message would even be legible when using a knife as a writing tool and then you just wasted time for no reason. Then there is the fact you are in a massive wood at night in the dark. Even if Rooster is tracking you, there’s no guarantee he’ll come across Hangman’s body, especially with his dark denim jacket and jeans helping him blend into the night. 

But that gives you another idea. 

Stripping off your burnt-orange jacket, you shiver as the cold air hits your bare arms. Trying your best to ignore it, you grab Hangman’s jacket, wrestle it off of him, and put it on yourself. Though denim on the outside, the interior is sherpa-lined and it is as warm, if not more, than the jacket you just traded him for. 

Feeling something in the pockets, you are overjoyed to discover his phone in one and the keys to the truck in the other. Checking the phone first, you see it’s locked. However, the key is a facial recognition scan. You know it’s a long shot, but, standing on your toes, you line Hangman’s face up to the screen and nearly squeal when you see it unlock. Your joy deflates somewhat when you see there’s no service but you remember Hangman mentioning the terrible service in these woods when he got that call from his missing hunter friends back in the clearing. Hopefully, as you walk, you’ll find a spot with at least one bar so you can call for help. Going into the settings, you disable the lock function so you won’t need Hangman’s face next time you try to access the phone.

Turning back to what you had planned, you do your best to fit your jacket onto his body. It’s too small but you manage to get it pulled up almost to his shoulders, enough that it’ll stay on. Then, taking a few deep breaths, you slowly pull on the end of the rope. It’s hard going without the adrenaline rush to aid in your efforts, but eventually, you manage to raise Hangman until his head almost brushes the limb the rope is thrown over. Hopefully, between the height and the flash of color, Rooster will be able to spot him if he is anywhere in the area. 

However, that means you need to leave this area as soon as possible.

Now that you have Hangman’s phone and truck keys, your best bet is to try to head back to the clearing. If you can make it there before Rooster catches you, you should be able to steal their truck and head for town. Or at least get somewhere where you can use the phone. 

And if for some reason that plan doesn’t work, at least the clearing will make a good place to make your final stand against Rooster.

Collecting all of the knives that you can find that had scattered around during your fight, you tuck them into the inside of your new jacket. Then, taking one last look at Hangman’s limp body hanging high overhead, you turn and head back in the direction you came from.

They wanted you to be a fox, fine, you’ll be a fox. A fox will do whatever it takes to free themselves from a trap and survive, even if that means gnawing off their own foot. So while it might take doing unspeakable things that will haunt you for the rest of your life in order to survive, it’s a price you’re willing to pay to be the one who walks out of these woods at the end of the night.

One down. One to go.

Thank you all for reading, reblogging, and commenting! There are two more parts coming soon in this series (Part 5 in Bradley's POV and Part 6 in Reader's POV). But I also have more planned for this universe beyond that so stay tuned for updates!

Taglist: @nerdysuperchick, @mayhem24-7forever , @the-untamed-soul , @hederasgarden

@inglourious-imagines , @straightforwardly , @srry-itshockeyszn , @flyinlove, @fandomhopped ,

@wanderdreamer , @callsign-phoenix , @forever-sleepy-sloth , @notroosterbradshaw , @dezthegeek ,

@cherrycola27 , @phoenix1389, @smells-like-perfect-senses , @boringusername3,

@petlaufeyson , @cycbaby, @fantasticcopeaglepasta , @writercole , @onebigfangirlworld ,

@ravenmoore14 , @clancycucumber230 , @kmc1989 , @ohtobeleah

@sunlightmurdock , @sparrows-corner , @ryebecca @slightly-psycho-multifan , @mads-weasley , 

@trencher4lyfe , @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @je-suis-prest-rachel,

@shanimallina87 , @mak-32, @blue-aconite , @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1,

@desert-fern , @withahappyrefrain , @roosterforme , @dingochef , @littlestatesman

@sorchathered

[dc-megatournament]

A Master List of fighters in the “Batman vs Everyone” tournament so far

If a character isn't listed here, they haven't been submitted.

List of the Fights Already Posted (in Alphabetical Order)

Amazing Man/Will Everett

Ambush Bug/Irwin Schwab

Azrael/Jean Paul Valley

Aztek/Uno

Batman Beyond/Terry McGinnis

Ben Tennyson

Big Barda/Barda Free

Big Hero 6 (Hiro Hamada, Baymax, GoGo Tomago, Honey Lemon, Fred, Wasabi No Ginger)

Black Cat/Felicia Hardy

Black Orchid/Susan Linden

Black Panther/T’Challa

Blade/ Eric Brooks

Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes

Blue Beetle/Ted Kord

Booster Gold/Michael Jon Carter

Bucky Barnes

Bugs Bunny

Captain Cold/Leonard Snart

Cassie Hack

Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Citizen Steel/Nathan Heywood

Cosmo and Wanda

Cyblade/Dominique Thiebaut

Cyborg/Victor Stone

Deadman/Boston Brand

Doctor Doom/Victor Von Doom

Doctor Fate/Kent Nelson

Doctor Fate/Khalid Nassour

Dracula (Castlevania)

Echo/Maya Lopez

Eda Clawthorne

Elektra Natchios

Elsa

Etrigan/Jason Blood

Finn & Jake

Firestorm/Jason Rusch

Firestorm/Ronnie Raymond

Godzilla

Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

Green Goblin/Norman Osborn

Green Lantern/John Stewart

Green Lantern/Simon Baz

Hatsune Miku

Hawkman/Katar Hol/Carter Hall

Hawkwoman/Shayera Hol/Shiera Hall

Hellboy

Hulk/Bruce Banner

Human Torch/Johnny Storm

Huntress/Helena Bertinelli

Invincible/Mark Grayson

Jade/Jennifer-Lynn Hayden

Jenny Wakeman/XJ-9

Jerry (Tom & Jerry)

Jesse Quick/Jessie Chambers

Jim Gordon

John Wick

Kim Possible

Ladybug/Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Cat Noir/Adrien Agreste

Luke Skywalker

Madame Xanadu

Magik/Illyana Rasputin

Man-Bat/Dr. Robert Kirkland Langstrom

Manhunter/Kate Spencer

Mario & Luigi

Martian Manhunter/J’onn J’onnz

Maxima

Megatron

Metamorpho/Rex Mason

Moon Knight/Marc Spector

Mr. Rogers

Ms Marvel/Kamala Khan

Mystery Inc (Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, Scooby)

Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Nimona

Oracle/Barbara Gordon

Orion

Percy Jackson

Phantom Stranger

Pink Panther

Plastic Man/Patrick "Eel" O'Brian

Queen Hippolyta

Red Hood/Jason Todd

Regina George

Rick Grimes

Robin/Damian Wayne

Rocket Red/Dmitri Pushkin

Rocket Red/Gavril Ivanovich

Sailor Moon/Usagi Tsukino

Saitama

Sara Pezzini

Sharon Carter

She-Hulk/Jennifer Walters

Sogeking/Usopp

Sonic the Hedgehog

Spider-Man/Miles Morales

Spider Woman/Jessica Drew

Spoiler/Stephanie Brown

Squirrel Girl/ Doreen Green

Starfire/Koriand’r

Star Sapphire/Carol Ferris

Steven Universe

Stitch/Experiment 626

Storm/Ororo Munroe

Strawberry Shortcake

Supergirl/Kara Danvers/Kara Zor-El

The Atom/Ray Palmer

The Crow/Eric Draven

The Cullens (Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Jasper, Rosalie, Alice, Emmett)

The Darkness/Jackie Estacado

The Flash/Wally West

The Question/Renee Montoya

Troia/Donna Troy

Vixen/Mari McCabe

Walter White

Wasp/Janet Van Dyne

Wolverine/X-23/Laura Kinney

Wonder Woman/Nubia

Word Girl/Becky Botsford

Fights That Have Yet to Be Posted (also in Alphabetical Order)

Alfred Pennyworth

Alphonse Elric 

Amy Rose

Angus MacGyver

Animal Man/Buddy Baker

Ant-Man/Hank Pym

Aquaman/Arthur Curry

Arsenal/Roy Harper

Artemis

Atom Smasher/Albert Rothstein

Avatar Aang

Baldi

Barbie

Batgirl/Cassandra Cain

Batman/Jace Fox

Batwing/David Zavimbe

Batwing/Luke Fox

Batwoman/Kate Kane

Beast/Hank McCoy

Beetlejuice

Bingo Heeler 

Black Canary/Dinah Laurel Lance

Black Lightning/Jefferson Pierce

Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

Bluebird/Harper Row

Blue Devil/Dan Cassidy

Bluey Heeler

Buffy Summers

Captain America/Sam Wilson

Captain America/Steve Rogers

Captain Atom/Nathaniel Adam

Captain Jack Sparrow

Captain Kirk

Captain Marvel/Billy Batson

Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers

Crazy Jane

Cybersix

Danny Phantom

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Darwin

David Haller

Deku/Izuku Midoriya

Detective Chimp/Bobo T. Chimpanzee

Doctor Fate/Linda Strauss

Doctor Light/Kimiyo Hoshi

Dolly Parton

Donald Duck

Dr. Mid Nite/Charles McNider

Edward Elric

Element Woman/Emily Sung

Ellie (TLoU)

Elongated Man/Ralph Dibny

Elric of Melninbone

Elsa Bloodstone

Emma Frost

Enchantress/June Moone

Eva-02

Ezio Auditore

Fire/Beatriz da Costa

Flamebird/Bette Kane

Gabby Kinney

Geo-Force/Brion Markov

Ghost Rider/Johnny Blaze

Giovanni Zatara

Godiva/Dorcas Leigh

Goku

Green Arrow/Connor Hawke

Green Lantern/Guy Gardner

Green Lantern/Hal Jordan

Green Lantern/Jessica Cruz

Green Lantern/Kyle Rayner

Grumpy Bear

Gundam Aerial

Gwen Tennyson

Gypsy/Cynthia Reynolds

Hawkeye/Clint Barton

Hawkgirl/Kendra Saunders

Heather (TDI)

Hello Kitty

Hua Cheng

Ice/Tora Olafsdotter

Iceman/Bobby Drake

Ichigo Kurosaki 

Invisible Woman/Sue Storm

Iron Man/Tony Stark

Jar Jar Binks

Jean Grey

Jessica Jones

Joel Miller (TLoU) 

John Constantine

Jubilee/Jubilation Lee

Katana/Tatsu Yamashiro

Katara 

Katsuki Bakugou

Kirby

Kisuke Urahara

Lan Wangji

Light Yagami

Link

Lobo

Luke Cage

Luo Binghe

Madame Mirage/Angela Temple

Mariah Carey 

Max Tennyson

May Chang

Mickey Mouse

Midnighter

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Jason Lee Scott, Zack Taylor, Kimberly Ann Hart, Billy Cranston, Trini Kwan, Tommy Oliver)

Mister Miracle/Scott Free

Mizu

Mon-El/Lar Gand

Monkey D Luffy

Mr Fantastic/Reed Richards

Naruto Uzamaki 

Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

Nightshade/Eve Eden

Obsidian/Todd Rice

Odysseus

Onyx Adams

Optimus Prime 

Ozymandias

Phineas & Ferb

Pikachu

Plastique/Bette Sans Souci

Powergirl/Kara Zor L/Karen Starr

Powerhouse/Naomi McDuffie

Power Puff Girls

Prodigy/David Alleyne

Puss in Boots

Raven

Red Tornado/Ulthoon

Robin/Tim Drake

Rogue/Anna Marie LeBeau

Ryu (Street Fighter)

Sally Jackson

Sanderson Sisters (Winifred, Mary, Sarah)

Santa Claus 

Scar (FMA)

Shade, the Changing Man/Rac Shade

Shen Qingqiu

She-Ra/Adora

Snoopy & Woodstock

Solid Snake

Spawn/Al Simmons

Spectrum/Monica Rambeau

Spider-Man/Peter Parker

Stan Pines

Star Butterfly

Stargirl/Courtney Whitmore

Starman/Mikaal Tomas

Steel/John Henry Irons

Superman/Clark Kent/Kal El

Swamp Thing/Alec Holland

Terezi Pyrope

The Atom/Ryan Choi

The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo

The Doctor

The Flash/Barry Allen

The Flash/Jay Garrick

The Pope 

The Punisher/Frank Castle

The Question/Vic Sage

The Ray/Ray Terrill

The Shredder

The Signal/Duke Thomas

The Thing/Ben Grimm

The Warner Siblings

Thor

Tigress/Artemis Crock

TMNT (Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo)

Toph Beifong

Ultraman

Uncle Iroh

Vampirella

Velvet Crowe

Vibe/Cisco Ramon

Wei Wuxian

Winry Rockbell 

Wolverine/James “Logan” Howlett

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Xie Lian

Yami Yugi

Zatanna Zatara

Zheng Shang-Chi

[kookies2000]

Because I feel like it.

Yellow sky? Bare footed characters? Mostly a mess? Over exaggerating some of the Hispanic features. I saw the first episode, and it was just poorly written in general. And what mother calls their son "cochinada." Roughly translates to dirty or trash.

What's good Latino/Hispanic representation?

Colombian 🇨🇴

In the Caribbean region of Colombia, they light up candles and lanterns on December 8, before sunrise. So the candle giving them magic was a wonderful detail. Generational trauma is a thing for us Latinos, and this film handled it in a healthy and matuer manner. And I love how they didn't shy away with how Spaniards attacked and colonized latin lands.

Mexicans 🇲🇽

Yes, us Mexicans love death. 🤣 But hey, I was always taught to respect death, La Muerte, and our ancestors. So, it makes sense that many Mexican films talk about death. But I also like that Maya and the Three have Aztec, Mayan, and Incan mythology. Natives to Mexico.

Dominican Puerto Rican 🇩🇴🇵🇷

Luz mom is Dominican, and Luz dad is Puerto Rican. I appreciate a good interracial couple and a mixed child. Luz name also translates to light, and some Latinos are known for doing witch craft. Or at least knowledgeable about witches and demons, and no, we aren't evil. We just know how to handle this stuff. Plus, the owl has many meanings in Latino culture. To some, I believe the owl is a messenger of death and is telling everyone that death/danger is near.

Afro Latino. Puerto Rican 🇵🇷

I am a massive sucker for interracial couples and mixed kids because of this. I was working at a hispanic store as a cashier. This woman walks past me and starts talking to the bagger. The bagger has blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin. The bagger looks at me worried because she doesn't speak English. So brown skin, black hair, me has to tell the bagger that the lady wanted ice in Spanish. I then talked to the lady in English. Her reaction? "YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!" Same for a dark skinned man. So many people skip me and talk to him in English. He's Dominican, and he only spoke Spanish. I appreciate films that show Latinos in different skin types and features. We're not all brown. So yeah, the mass diversity in this film is just beautiful. And I love how they wrote Miles relationship with his parents. Realistic conflict and healthy communication. Not falling into toxic stereotypes.

Spainard Puss 🇪🇸 Mexican Kitty & Perrito 🇲🇽

Spaniards are considered Hispanic but not Latinos like Mexicans. And again, interracial couples for the win. And I love the realism in their romance that heals through healthy therapy. Many people see Mexicans as toxic, so having Perrito as a therapist and the one helping everyone emotionally, it's nice. Not every Mexican is toxic. And I love how you can tell their Spanish and Mexican even though their animals. Puss Spanish accent, Spanish actor, him being a ginger like some Spaniards, flamingo dancing, and gazpacho. Kitty, Mexican accent, Mexican actress, black fur/hair like most Mexicans, quinceañera, and I love how they gave her a luchador mask. Something that originates from Mexico. Also, my brother and I joke how we as Mexiacns can't swim and Kitty nearky drowns in the 1st film. 🤣 Perrito, he's a chihuahua with a Mexican actor. Enough said. I also want to say death is Brazilian because of his actor.

I don't know much about Spanish culture, but someone said the wishing star has a connection to Spanish culture. Is that true? If so, COOL! Because death is connected to Mexican culture. So, Dreamworks finding a way to combine Spanish and Mexican culture in one film is 100% magical.

There are many more, like Beverly Hills Chihuahua 🇲🇽. 🤣 That film is better than Primos. Emperor's New Groove, Peru 🇵🇪, and Rio, Brazil 🇧🇷. Not Hispanic but Latino culture. But this post is getting long. Primos! A huge step down in Latino/Hispanic representation. Especially since we have so many good films and shows that have proper representation.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

MORE Spider Society Headcanons

Halloween: Spiderween

First of all: DECORATIONS??????

The ENTIRE campus done up with jack-o'-lanterns and lights and smoke machines and COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SPIDERWEBS for the Spooky vibes???!!!

Spider decorations EVERYWHERE. From October 1st.

There's a haunted house on campus - filled with volunteers AND REALLY REALLY good jumpscare holograms made by Lyla

The food court starts serving Halloween specific food. Like a Vampire Miguel Milkshake at McMiguels.

COSTUMES??!!! COSTUMES BUT OVER THE SUITS.

TRICK OR TREATING Some people stay home at their universe and people portal over for candy and they get to see a glimpse of your universe

Or you get to hop universe to universe dressed like a Spider-person dressed like a giraffe. And since it's Halloween, it's fine if a bunch of Spider-people are running around dressed ridiculous because so is everyone else on most Earth's, Miguel's like 'yeah sure okay'

BIG BONUS POINTS if they dress up like ANOTHER Spider-person but like... Still over the suit.

Like wearing the crappy costume Miles had over your actual suit and 'acting' like someone else.

And EVERY TIME you see someone dressed as you, or wearing the same costume -

You know what you must to do.

One year Hobie comes as Ben Reilly. All dressed up in punk but with a blue hoodie crop top to match . He spends the whole day wailing about the harrowing memories and crouching on ledges. Dramatically collapsing in people's arms

Is your Spidersona small? Imagine them dressed as Miguel. Walking around acting and irritated and fake angry and DOING THIS TO MIGUEL

Miguels like 'are you serious? Cut that out-'

"aRe yOu SeRiOuS?? cUt ThAt OuT'

(and Lyla's like 'oooo that was good. They sound JUST like you Migs')

Lyla being a very popular costume

A bunch of Spider-people wearing fur coats and heart glass and they just decide to spend the whole day being useless to Miguel.

Which LYLA ADORES SHE'S LOVES ATTENTION

They all lounge around on all the seats like her, some even in bob cut wigs, and they follow Miguel and trying to get selfies with him LMAO

The Lyla with the cutest or funniest Miguel selfie gets put in the Campus newspaper

MJs A POPULAR ONE TOO -

ALL the lazy Spider-people wanna throw a red party city wig over their suit and be like 'I'm MJ'. NO YOU'RE NOT.

Or some will even wear their MJ's clothes. Walking around calling everybody, Tiger. (Mayday gets the joke - they're supposed to be her mom - she thinks it's HILARIOUS and giggles the whole day)

Sidebar - can you image Gwen with a wig over her suit BUT LIKE under her hood??? SO SHE WOULDN'T LOOK BALD?? I'M SCREAMING AIRPOD LOOKING AHH

VILLAIN COSTUMES - Spider people dressed as Doc Ock over their suits, coming in with fish bowls on their head and going 'Look, I'm Mysterio!! Lol'

While the caged villains are looking at them like

('y'all mfers got a lotta nerve')

I bet some people get REALLY REALLY into it and go all out, designing everything to a T. (Like the perfectionist!pavitr)

Some friends even do joint costumes - WebSlinger makes a costume for Willow so they match. Hobie does all his costumes DIY and it's like the ONE thing on campus he participates in.

Because he loves the DIY spirit. And the chance to mock his bosses on company hours.

Goes ALL IN on him and Gwen's (he wants to match) costumes. Or maybe he doesn't participate cause-

What's even better is people 'Punkifying' their suit to be like Spider-punk is a popular costume too!!

They throw together their own vest and jeans and jewelry and boots. And follow Hobie around, hands in pockets, and they all act all cool and fake punk all day , Hobie hams up the act for the occasion

Hobie of course weaponizes this by annoying Miguel with his 'clones'.

Ten Hobies outside his office sturming untuned guitars REALLY badly and Hobies likes 'Keep it up you !! U sound great!!'

Miguel's office full of Hobies and Lylas, Last year Margo went as Jess and Jess was touched

Then there's some Spider-people that are broke as hell. But since they all have top tier humor they make the intentionally cheap or out of the closet costumes. that ends up being stupidly hilarious.

Like wearing boxes and drawing a Spider-suit on it. Boom - Lego Spider-man.

Sometimes people might wear their makeshift suit over their new suit. So like a Spider-person having this as their costume OVER their suit

And arguably the funniest of them all - having a really elaborate overdone homemade costume of a specific hero on campus, and everyone is like woah so cool have they seen you in it yet?

And you take off the costume mask... And it's just you... AS YOURSELF Like it's just the same mask underneath LIKE A HAT ON A HAT

THERE'S SO MANY POSSIBILITIES THIS JUST BRINGS ME JOY

But the ONLY TWO THINGS YOU CAN'T DRESS AS AT ALL-

Venom and Deadpool.

Venom is too risky. Deadpool is not allowed on campus and if THE REAL ONES seen they have to evacuate and deploy the capture team cause he gets too excited (you'd be surprised of what one man is capable of in the need of Spider-attention)

Anything else is fine though-

CAN YOU SEE IT ARE YOU SEEING SPIDERWEEN????? HUH

[lola-writes]

One-Eye & the Dreamer

Part 5

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x O.C Aylana Velaryon

Word Count: 1,8k

Themes & Warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, violence, blood, targcest, sexual themes, tension, drama, angst, fix-it of sorts, eventual smut, sexual inexperience, forbidden love, high valyrian, dance of dragons, POV first person

Summary: Aylana Velaryon foresees Aemond Targaryen's fate and assigns herself to alter it.

More chapters

– AYLANA –

in the aftermath, she shines.

blue fire in her palms; bloody roses in her hair.

she rises out of the sea.

nothing burns as bright as she.

The heat was a relentless beast, even in the absence of the sun, clawing at me with its suffocating breath. Sleep remained stubbornly out of reach. I tossed and turned like a ship in a storm until I got a crick in my neck, the sheets twisting into a tangled prison. 

Finally, I heaved myself out of bed and stumbled towards the basin, splashing myself with its tepid water. It offered me a fleeting reprieve, but a blessed oblivion seemed miles away.

Resigned, I got dressed, twisted my hair into a messy braid, and approached the wall in the back corner of my chamber. My hands rummaged across the familiar nooks and crannies of its rocky facade. If my memory did not fail me, this is where …

The wall suddenly shuddered in protest as it ground open into a gaping maw of darkness.

Maegor’s tunnels.

I grinned with satisfaction and threw one look over my shoulder before I vanished into its jaws, the heavy stone door groaning shut behind me.

My ancestor, King Maegor Targaryen, had them built as a secret escape route, a spider’s web spun beneath the Red Keep itself. Legends whispered of treacherous passageways, some so narrow they forced grown men to crawl, some booby-trapped with deadly cunning. Some coursed right outside the royal apartments, allowing a hidden person to unravel the darkest secrets.

The darkness pressed against me, thick and alive with possibility. Wind wailed through unseen cracks and rats skittered across the floors. The oil lanterns, flickering like trapped souls on the rough-hewn walls, cast long, distorted shadows that danced at the edge of my vision. They grew scarcer the further I went. 

The lower I delved, the cooler the air became – a welcome change. Though, the rats appeared to grow larger down here. Or was my mind playing tricks on me?

I took a right turn, then a left turn, continued ahead forty paces, then turned left again, just as I remembered. It would not bode well to get lost in here.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering the ancient tunnels, a sliver of grey pierced the oppressive darkness. Relief surged through me, and I quickened my pace. The passage widened, and with a final heave, I pushed myself through the opening. 

The warm night air washed over me again as I exited onto a rocky ledge overlooking the Blackwater. Moonlight painted a shimmering path across its surface, the sereneness only disturbed by the pulse of King’s Landing’s unseen heart. The distant sounds of laughter, the clatter of carts, and drunken brawls drifted from above. 

I started down the stairs, raising my skirts as I went. The lapping waves whispered promises of cool relief, carrying a breeze in toward the land. The water - the singular antidote for my tenacious perspiration – looked so inviting I did not linger to shed my dress, allowing it to pool down my slicked body. The ground turned from rocks to sand beneath my feet, then, the seawater embraced me like a long-lost friend, its coolness seeping into my bones, washing away all the grime, tension and vigil that stained me. My arms churned, propelling me into the moonlit body of the Blackwater with long strokes. The Red Keep, a hulking silhouette against the star-dappled sky, receded with each powerful kick. Its lit windows like eyes, watching me full of judgement. But in that moment beneath the vast expanse of the night, my naked body submerged beneath the water, I was descended into pure, unadulterated freedom. I doused myself in the cool seawater and exhaled with relief. 

For the briefest second – no, rather five, I thought life as a common-born would be preferable to this gilded cage I was living.

A low rumble, like a distant drumbeat, sounded across the Blackwater. Thunder? I cast my gaze to the star-dusted canvas, unencumbered by clouds. It would be impossible. It rumbled anew, closer this time, a tremor that sent shivers down my spine and iced my veins. 

Then, a massive silhouette descended from the heavens, blotting out the moon with its immensity. My pulse leapt into my throat.

Vhagar.

Her great, tattered leather, stretched taut like sails, beat the air with a thunderous rhythm, propelling her colossal form towards the city. In the ethereal, silver-lit night she was a nightmare made real, a monstrous beauty, a morbid fascination that would’ve held me captive if it weren’t for the plaguing question at hand,

Was she carrying her rider? I wondered. The idea was disconcerting. Though, a strange quiver bubbled through my core as I watched her draw closer. 

And closer. 

Closer still.

Taking a deep breath, I submerged myself fully beneath the dark, counting seconds, listening to the eerie silence of the depths, until I watched Vhagar’s blurry form pass overhead through the water’s surface. 

Once I could no longer feel her thunder, I surfaced, filling my lungs.

The encounter left me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. The cool allure of the water now felt distant, replaced by a chilling dread.

Had Aemond seen me? The question hammered in my skull, a relentless beating that drowned out any remaining peace, leaving me perturbed.

Would that if he was mounted at all? Vhagar might have just been flying all by herself. 

But if she wasn’t, what would bring him out at such a time? It was well into the hour of the wolf. 

Questions spun endlessly in my mind as I got myself to shore, not ceasing as I made my way into the tunnels. 

I decided I would not care whether or not I’d been exposed. 

I am the princess, I thought, a feeble attempt to anchor myself. Soon to be the heir to the Iron Throne. I can do what I like. Yet, the words tasted like ash in my mouth.

I could’ve relished the defiance of being seen, a secret rebellion against the court’s watchful eyes. But the consequences were too dire. A single word from Aemond to his mother, and the gossip would erupt into a wildfire, consuming my mother’s claim and scorching my legitimacy. 

Shame burned hot in my throat. The risk I had taken, the foolish yearning for a sliver of freedom, suddenly felt reckless.

Stupid fucking girl. My thoughts echoed in the silent tunnels. Why don’t you think twice?

But defiance flickered once again, a stubborn ember I liked to breathe life into.

It doesn’t matter what people think. 

The internal battle raged on, mirroring the fight for control in my shaking limbs. Twice, I nearly lost my way, the darkness reflecting the turmoil within me.

Reaching the upper levels, I ghosted past identical doors, taking great care in choosing the one to my apartments.

The silence, only momentarily interrupted by my breathing, took a sudden turn when I passed one of the doors.

“Pass me that, would you?”

A muffled voice came from behind it, and I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Without thinking, I pressed against the cool stone, trying to discern its owner.

“You’ve had enough.” Another voice, laced with vexation.

“Not nearly.”

A tremor of recognition shot through me, and nerves played beneath my skin.

“You drink more than a Braavosi Sealord.” Aemond’s voice was undeniable, a hint of resignation colouring his tone, a concession to his elder brother’s legendary indulge. 

Words or gestures were exchanged beyond my hearing.

“Don’t be a twat,” muttered Aegon, “You haven’t even touched your cup.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Suit yourself.” 

The sounds that followed painted a vivid picture: the scrape of a chair, a cup being drained with a heavy sigh, then a collapse back down.

“This Arbor gold has gone sour.”

“Dornish red,” Aemond corrected dryly.

Aegon scoffed. “Figures. Speaking of which, I’ve been told the so-called prince of Dorne graced us with his presence.”

“Indeed,” Aemond replied curtly.

“Cunt. Why is he here, anyway?” Aegon pressed.

“Private business, I believe.”

Aegon groaned theatrically. “Go on, brother, you always know more than that.” A playful edge crept into Aegon’s voice as he creaked in his chair.

“Find another source of gossip,” snapped Aemond.

Aegon groaned loudly.

“Mayhaps an abstemious habit might grant you access to firsthand information.”

Aegon mimicked him with slurred fraternal mockery, but Aemond did not retaliate, though the disdain that oozed from him was tangible.

“That’s why I have you,” said Aegon finally.

“Hmmph.”

“Not to worry, dear brother. I shall remain sober enough to mess with the Strong children.” Aegon rubbed his hands together vindictively, a grin in his voice. “The eldest one looked…”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Exceptionally tasty,” said Aegon salaciously.

Bile crept up my throat to his words, and my revolt was so strong I nearly retreated back into the tunnels, but a prickle of defiance held me rooted. Later, I’d curse that defiance.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Aegon drawled, a cruel amusement in his voice, “I am merely reflecting your own… prior interest.” 

“You are mistaken.”

“To even think is to covet, dear brother.”

Venom poured into Aemond’s voice, “Aylana is as significant to me as a whisper in the Dragonpit.”

A strange ache bloomed in my chest.

“An illegitimate bastard styling herself as Velaryon,” he sneered. 

I could not bear to hear anymore. I pushed myself off the wall and continued my path forward, a curious emptiness hollowing me, a sticking feeling behind my eyelids. Aemond’s words, an endless echo in my mind, consumed me, to the point that I must have dissociated, for I could not recall how I reached my chambers. I had collapsed onto my bed, the emptiness and a bitter taste of betrayal warring within me, until blessed oblivion finally claimed me.

The press of bodies surrounded me endlessly, a pulsating mass that swayed to the relentless beat of the drums. As I filtered through their celebration, I found myself standing in front of the Iron Throne. Its jagged edges, forged from a thousand fallen enemies, seemed to drip with dark history.

“Your refreshment, princess.” Prince Marius Martell materialized beside me, offering me a goblet of emerald crystal, adorned with gold filigree. His dark gaze remained fixed on me as he took two large gulps of his wine. As I placed the rim to my lips, a choke tore from his throat. 

A crimson tide spilled from his mouth, and his eyes wept blood. Panic clawed at my throat. The goblet slipped from my grasp, clattering on the stone floor. Prince Marius crumpled into my arms, and I watched his slow, tremoring demise, infarctions webbing the veins of his throat, his eyes, wide and vacant, staring sightlessly through empty space as his body went still.

I awoke with a heart-wrenching gasp, clawing at my sheets desperately. The morning sun was pouring through the window like liquid gold and birds sang their performances. 

As my ragged breath calmed in my chest and reality dawned upon me, terror lingered, its cold, icy hands gripping my heart.

A shiver coiled down my spine. As much as I did not want to believe it, it would be foolish to ignore my heart’s indisputable warning. They had not come to me in years, yet this night I knew it to be true.         

It was a Dream – as clear as this room, as clear as my own name.

Something terrible was going to happen.

More chapters

[punkeropercyjackson]

2025 is the year y'all need to let go of Batfam crossovers disguised as DC crossovers where the plot every time without fail is 'Bruce adopts xover character(even if they're a grown ass person with a job besides the plot)' or even 'xover character is Bruce/other male Batfam member's biokid(even when their races don't match and you make no effort to fix up any possible whitewashing with poc headcanons)'.You are boring at best with your flavorless and ooc writing and designs and a eugenist at worst with your obsession with 'the Batboy look' that oh so coincidentally is 'white male with light eyes who's only dark feature is his hair' and inherently erases the black Robin and the first woc Batgirl(who is also the first disabled Batgirl + you frequently erase Oracle's wheelchair usage to make her Batgirl and Dick and Damian ain't even white,they're romani and wasian/half arab-chinese)yet you also include the blue eyed blonde white girl despite Bruce not even considering her his child as he does Duke and Cass.Can y'all add Percy Jackson as a demigod like in canon but also a kryptonian Legacy since kryptonian/human hybrids and half-bloods are basically the same thing and Miles Morales as a Blue Lantern with ties to 90s Young Justice?Maybe they can be best friends with Jason taking into account all the similarities between them the three of them?And Jaypercy + Timiles would fix us.Turn down the whiteness on your posts,you're scaring the Bathoes

[dc-sideblog]

OKAY. Everyone please pretend Miles looks fifteen. Anyway. @punkeropercyjackson

[id: Jason Todd, Percy Jackson, and Miles Morales all sitting eating pizza on a rooftop ledge. Percy is wearing a black and blue Kryptonian suit. Miles is dressed as a Blue Lantern.]

[deansapplepie]

Marchweres Day 1-2

Prompt: Full Moon, Shapeshifting, Predator-Prey

Pairing: Werewolf! Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, predator-prey dynamic, at first it looks like they don’t know each other (it soon is proved to be the opposite), a little role-play maybe(?), mentions of fingering, mentions of cunnilingus, teasing, dirty talking, dumbfication if you squint, praising. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+

A/N: I wrote the werewolf thing in a vibe more Twilight, but at the same time I’m creating my own things about it.

Also, It may or may not be in twd universe. You can consider anything. There’s no mentions of walkers or the apocalypse.

It was full moon. She was big, round and high on the sky. Despite not having a single light with you, it illuminated well almost everything and it also created shadows.

You walked by yourself in the woods, a dumb choice most people would say. The full moon was when monsters crawled from their holes and came to earth so they could feed from humans. Or at least, that was what your grandmother said. You never believed on this shit, until you listened to a howl, and by how the sound was high it came from somewhere close to you.

How could you forget there were wolves in those woods? Why did you come to the woods in the first place?

The leaves rustled nearby, you looked to your sides and saw nothing. You felt a warm breath on your nape and turned very slowly, your heart beaten fast, and the nervousness was all around you. When you turned back you were presented to a big dark brown wolf, it was the biggest wolf you had ever seen, his nose was in the same height as your face. It was so furry and had some white hair here and there, specially around the snout. The wolf’s eyes were a bright blue that could be recognized anywhere, because you never saw something as shiny as it. It let out a small huff and showed a little of teeth and you interpreted that as “Run.”

Your instincts heightened and you turned your back to it and started running. You knew it was stupid. You knew you had no chance. Your 2 little legs against the ginormous wolf 4 legs? No chance! You ran as if your life depended on this. You took some glances at your back and you saw it chasing you. It could be faster, but it wasn’t the intention. The Wolf was playing with you, playing with the food.

You ran as much as your body allowed you, until you were faced with a Stone Mountain, and you had nowhere to go, you turned back to the monster and saw it approaching you, cornering you… planning the exact moment it would jump on you. His blue eyes illuminated the night like two lanterns. You looked both sides, no way to run and you looked back again, it was like he had a grin on his animal face before attacking you and tackling you to the ground.

You closed your eyes for an instant anticipating the fall, the fluffy leaves made floor of the place welcomed your body and when you opened your eyes, there he was… a huge man caging you to the ground, his hands holding yours up your head, his medium length hair falling like a curtain in his face, his wavy hair framing his face, that same blue eyes now adorning his face and when your eyes roomed lower you were presented with his marvelous chest full of scars from old battles and tattoos. Going a little lower you could see his happy trail and your eyes tentatively roomed down, until you heard him. “Ma eyes are up here sunshine…” the gruff voice sending chills throughout your body.

Your eyes moved back to his face and he couldn’t hide the amusement on his face. You smirked at him, and he continued to talk. “You probably sucked at playing hide and seek.” He took a long sniff on your neck and continued to talk in your ear. “Ya were all around the woods. Can’t even hide yourself for living. And yer smell? Could smell your arousal miles away before finding ya.”

“It’s because of the expectation of you catching me.” You admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, of what you’re going to do to me.”

It was true your grandmother told you everything about werewolves, but she never told you how it was to be one or live with one. And if there was one thing you learned it was that every full moon they got so much energy accumulated, having to control themselves and spend this energy hunting… but that wasn’t the best way of spending this energy, it was till they matured and learned that sex was the best option to go through this phase. Just after meeting him you got to learn all of this.

Knowing this, that night, you decided to do a game. More like a tag game than hide and seek, to spend some energy, for the adrenaline to run in your veins, especially his, to build the expectation. But while you did that, you couldn’t help but feel excited all the way through to your ending agreed point.

“So what will the big bad wolf do to me?” You asked looking at him with the best clueless look you could manage to give him.

He held a laugh at your act. “What do ya suggest?”

“I don’t know, this was your idea…”

For fuck’s sake, you had already lost count of how many times he had made you cum. It was like his battery was never low. He started fingering and eating you out, then he made his sick game of teasing your folds, clit and entrance with his dick but not doing what you needed the most… next thing he hammered into you for so long that you lost count of time.

Now after your, god knows how many, orgasm he pounded into you, producing the filthiest sounds of your juices and bodies colliding against each other. You had your arms folded in front of you so you could support your face and prevent from laying it against the leaves, your ass up high while he grabbed your hips and fucked you senseless, otherwise you’d not be able to hold yourself in the position.

“D-D-D-Daryl…” you cried while he hit that spot again and again.

“D-D-D-D…” he mocked you. “So fucked up that can’t even say one simple word.”

Damn… he loved you in every way he could have you, but gods he loved to watch your ass while he disappeared inside of you. He grunted with his thoughts and what he saw in front of him and felt. How could him have so many dirty thoughts about you when he was already doing the dirty?

One of his hands came to your body and helped your body up to be flush against his while he continued trusting his hips on you. One of his hands wandered up your body stopping for a little on your breasts and then continuing its way to your neck stopping there, no pressure just giving you the sensation of being held there. His other hand traveled from your hips down to your clit rubbing torturing circles on it. You whined and whimpered against him, feeling that one more time you were getting close to your release.

“Fuck. Ya always do so good for me, taking everything I give you.” He breathed on your ear. “Do ya have any idea off how good you make me feel?”

Your body trembled, a bunch of moans and incoherent words coming from your lips, you had reached your orgasm one more time. He felt that he was finally getting there, he continued riding your orgasm till he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore. He pulled out, his cock rubbing up and down between your folds while you where still coming out from your orgasm. He bursted in pleasure spending his seed on your stomach and on the floor. Even though he was deeply tempted on finishing inside of you, he couldn’t. You still didn’t feel prepared to have his puppies so he was waiting for your time.

He laid on the floor holding you in his arms waiting for both of you to recover your breaths. You turned around and your mouth found his giving him a passionate kiss. “I love you, but I don’t know if I can walk.” You pouted.

“Don’t need ta. I’ll carry you home.” He said nuzzling your hair. “I love you, and thank you for spending this time with me.”

“Next full moon again?” You asked, and he laughed he couldn’t believe you had enjoyed this crazy idea.

“If ya want to, yeah.”

You dressed your clothes, Daryl helping you and then you realized he didn’t dress the clothes you brought him on your backpack. “I’m not walking home with your naked ass. Nothing against it, but what if people see it?

“I ain’t walking.” He shifted again into his wolf form and signed with his snout for you to get on his back.

“Really? This isn’t what I imagine when you ask me to ride you.” You joked, he left a huff from his nose, and you knew that was a snort.

He lowered himself so you could get on his back, you laid there on his dark brown fur, one leg on each side and your arms around his neck. As soon as you were on his back and holding yourself, he ran through the woods, this time not behind you, but with you.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

Cute Paw divider by @lazyneonrabbitt

[nerdsbianhokie]

Reading the World

In 2023, I challenged myself to watch a movie from every country in the world during the year, which I more or less succeeded. At the start of 2024 I decided to read a book from every country in the world (without the time restraint) and got a map to track my progress along with a challenge on Story Graph.

List of countries and books below the cut

Current count: 59

Afghanistan:

Albania:

Algeria:

American Samoa: Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel

Andorra: Andorra: a play in twelve scenes by Max Frisch

Angola: The Whistler by Ondjaki

Anguilla:

Antigua and Barbuda:

Argentina: Our Share of the Night by Mariana Enríquez

Armenia:

Aruba:

Australia: Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia edited by Alexis West

Austria:

Azerbaijan:

Bahamas:

Bahrain:

Bangladesh:

Barbados:

Belarus:

Belgium:

Belize:

Benin:

Bermuda:

Bhutan: Folktales of Bhutan by Kunzang Choden

Bolivia:

Bosnia and Herzegovina:

Botswana:

Brazil: The Words That Remain by Stênio Gardel

British Virgin Islands:

Brunei:

Bulgaria:

Burkina Faso:

Burundi: Baho! by Roland Rugero

Cambodia: Ma and Me by Putsata Reang

Cameroon: The Impatient by Djaïli Amadou Amal

Canada: The Gift is in the making: Anishinaabeg Stories retold by Amanda Strong and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson

Canary Islands: Dogs of Summer by Andrea Abreu

Cape Verde:

Cayman Islands:

Central African Republic: Co-wives, Co-widows by Adrienne Yabouza

Chad:

Chile: The Twilight Zone by Nona Fernández

China: The Secret Talker by Geling Yan

Christmas Islands:

Cocos Islands:

Colombia:

Comoros:

Cook Islands:

Costa Rica:

Croatia:

Cuba: I Was Never the First Lady by Wendy Guerra

Curacao:

Cyprus:

Czech Republic:

Dem. Rep. of Congo:

Denmark: The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living by Meik Wiking

Djibouti:

Dominica:

Dominican Republic:

Ecuador:

Egypt:

El Salvador:

Equatorial Guinea:

Eritrea:

Estonia:

Eswatini:

Ethiopia:

Falkland Islands:

Faroe Islands:

Fiji:

Finland:

France: The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

French Guiana:

French Polynesia:

Gabon:

Gambia:

Georgia:

Germany: At the Edge of the Night by Friedo Lampe

Ghana: Wife of the Gods by Kwei Quartey

Gibraltar:

Greece:

Greenland:

Grenada:

Guam:

Guatemala:

Guernsey:

Guinea:

Guinea-Bissau:

Guyana:

Haiti:

Honduras:

Hong Kong:

Hungary:

Iceland: The Night Guest by Hildur Knútsdóttir

India: Coming Out as Dalit: A Memoir Of Surviving India's Caste System by Yashica Dutt

Indonesia: Of Bees and Mist by Erick Setiawan

Iran: Darius the Great is Not Okay by Abid Khorram

Iraq: Frankenstein in Baghdad by Ahmed Saadawi

Ireland:

Isle of Man:

Israel:

Italy:

Ivory Coast:

Jamaica: When Life Gives You Mangos by Kereen Getten

Japan: The Lantern of Lost Memories by Sanaka Hiiragi

Jordan:

Kazakhstan:

Kenya:

Kiribati:

Kosovo:

Kuwait:

Kyrgyzstan:

Laos:

Latvia:

Lebanon: Beirut Hellfire Society by Rawi Hage

Lesotho:

Liberia:

Libya: Zodiac of Echoes by Khaled Mattawa

Liechtenstein:

Lithuania:

Luxembourg:

Macedonia:

Madagascar:

Malawi:

Malaysia:

Maldives:

Mali:

Malta:

Marshall Islands:

Mauritania:

Mauritius: The Last Brother by Nathacha Appanah

Mexico: Silver Nitrate by Silvia Morena-Garcia

Micronesia:

Moldova:

Monaco:

Mongolia:

Montenegro:

Montserrat:

Morocco:

Mozambique:

Myanmar: Smile as They Bow by Nu Nu Yi

Namibia:

Nauru:

Nepal:

Netherlands: We Had to Remove this Post by Hanna Bervoets

New Caledonia:

New Zealand: Tahuri by Ngahuia Te Awekotuku

Nicaragua:

Niger:

Nigeria: Buried Beneath the Baobab Tree by Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani

Niue:

Norfolk Island:

North Korea: A Thousand Miles to Freedom: My Escape from North Korea by Eunsun Kim

Northern Mariana Islands:

Norway: Blind Goddess by Anne Holt

Oman:

Pakistan: Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H

Palau:

Palestine: The Skin and Its Girl by Sarah Cypher

Panama:

Papua New Guinea:

Paraguay:

Peru:

Philippines:

Pitcairn Islands:

Poland: Return from the Stars by Stanisław Lem

Portugal: Pardalita by Joana Estrela

Puerto Rico: Velorio by Xavier Navarro Aquino

Qatar:

Rep. of the Congo:

Romania:

Russia:

Rwanda: Baking Cakes in Kigali by Gaile Parkin

Saint Barthelemy:

Saint Helena, Ascension and Tristan da Cunha:

Saint Kitts and Nevis:

Saint Lucia:

Saint Martin:

Saint Pierre and Miquelon:

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines:

Samoa: Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel

San Marino:

Sao Tome and Principe:

Saudi Arabia: Girls of Riyadh by Rajaa Alsanea

Senegal:

Serbia:

Seychelles:

Sierra Leone:

Singapore:

Sint Maarten:

Slovakia:

Slovenia:

Solomon Islands:

Somalia: Under the Shade of a Tree: Somali Women Speak edited by Rissa Mohabir

South Africa:

South Korea: The Old Woman with the Knife by Gu Byeong -Mo

South Sudan:

Spain: Mammoth by Eva Baltasar

Sri Lanka: The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka

Sudan: The Translator: A Memoir by Daoud Hari

Suriname:

Sweden: Fire from the Sky by Moa Backe Åstot

Switzerland:

Syria: The Book Collectors: A Band of Syrian Rebels and the Stories That Carried Them Through a War by Delphine Minoui

Taiwan:

Tajikistan: The Sandalwood Box: Folk Tales from Tadzhikistan by Hans Baltzer

Tanzania:

Thailand:

Togo:

Tokelau:

Tonga:

Trinidad and Tobago:

Tunisia:

Turkey:

Turkmenistan:

Turks and Caicos Islands:

Tuvalu:

Uganda:

Ukraine:

United Arab Emirates:

United Kingdom: Poyums by Len Pennie

United States of America: Reclaiming Two-Spirits: Sexuality, Spiritual Renewal & Sovereignty in Native America by Gregory D. Smithers

United States Virgin Islands: No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull

Uruguay:

Uzbekistan:

Vanuatu: Sista, Stanap Strong : A Vanuatu Women's Anthology edited by Mikaela Nyman and Rebecca Tobo Olul-Hossen

Venezuela: Doña Barbara by Rómulo Gallegos

Vietnam:

Wallis and Futuna:

Western Sahara:

Yemen:

Zambia:

Zimbabwe: We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo

[luvendiary]

of moons and gowns / r. lupin

remus lupin x reader; royal!au

part 1

a/n: here´s part 2!!!! this is the end of this specific storyline, but if you're interested in deeing specific scenarios in this au, send in a request! i hope you enjoy this! i had a lot of fun writing.

tw: mentions of abuse and torture.

summary: the life of a servant in the palace was hectic. the life of a servant in the palace who so happened to get along with the princes, was even more so.

In the days that followed your encounter with Prince Remus in the palace corridors, life took an unexpected turn. The upcoming royal ball was now tinged with the prospect of attending as Prince Remus's guest. You tried not to dwell on it however, as you knew it was probably an attempt to get on your nerves or play a light joke on you as James and Sirius often did. 

Still, not much energy was left to dwell on the invitation as the palace was a hive of activity and you were at the center of it. Chores multiplied, and you found yourself engulfed in a whirlwind of tasks, leaving little room for leisure or the company of your royal friends.

The days blended together in a blur of scrubbing, polishing, and arranging, all under the watchful eyes of strict supervisors ensuring perfection for the impending event.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace grounds, you finally trudged back to your modest chambers. Your limbs ached, and weariness clung to every step, but the promise of rest spurred you forward.

Upon entering your room the crowd of maids gathered near one of the beds caught your attention. And as you started to unpin your hair you approached them.

“What are you lot staring at?”

Your presence took them by surprise, as they all rapidly turned their heads toward you with huge grins. 

“You may not want to settle down just yet”, Lucy said with a mischievous tone,

You raised an eyebrow as you realized they were all huddled around your bed, and that there was something laying on top. 

“It looks like you’ve caught the attention of yet another prince”, she said as you inspected the beautiful blue, silk dress that had been left extended neatly on your bed.  

Your mind was racing at a thousand miles per minute as you reached for the small piece of paper that sat neatly next to the dress. 

You opened it and felt as the rest of the girls peered over your shoulder. 

In the chaos of these hectic days, I thought a respite might be in order. Please consider this an invitation (rather than a command) to join me for dinner. I promise not to bore you with tedious tales of courtly affairs or James and Sirius’ latest plan (unless, of course, you insist).

I’ll wait for you at the gardens at 8.

Yours sincerely,

Remus

You could feel your cheeks warm up. Dinner with Remus Lupin had been the furthest thing from your mind when you started your day of chores. Yet, as you slipped into the dress laid out on your bed and your hair was once again tamed into soft waves by your fellow maids, you couldn't suppress the flutter of excitement in your chest. 

The evening air was crisp and scented with the fragrance of blooming flowers as you strolled through the garden. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the way, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone walkways. 

You fiddled with your fingers as you made your way towards the center of the garden where you found a picnic set up, and sitting on a nearby stone bench was Prince Remus with a book in his hand. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. A picnic seemed almost too mundane for a prince. But in a strange way it made you feel comforted. You would rather have this than a big elaborate dinner.

As if on cue, Remus seemed to notice you. He closed his book and set it down quickly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose white shirt underneath a blue waistcoat along with some trousers and boots. He looked terribly handsome. 

“There you are”, he said as he approached you with a gentle smile. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come”.

You said nothing and offered him a sheepish smile instead. You still weren’t sure how you were supposed to behave with him.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he offered you a hand, which you took and allowed yourself to be led to the blanket laid out on the ground.

“Thank you, your majesty. I must say that I’ve never worn a dress like this”, you replied. “Besides, if I may be so bold, you look rather dashing yourself”.

He sat next to you and smiled. “Please, just call me Remus”.

You remained quiet for a second before daring to look up at him with the smallest of smirks. “Is that an order?”

He bit his tongue, trying to suppress the smile that crept onto his face, but failing. “It’s a request.” 

“As you wish then…Remus,” you said as you tried to suppress a teasing smile of your own.

With that settled, a satisfied Remus reached out for the basket as he began unpacking.

You sat down along with him; your flowy dress falling around you. 

"I hope you like strawberry tarts," Remus said, holding one out to you on a small plate. "They're my favorite."

You accepted the tart graciously, taking a small bite and savoring the burst of flavor. "They're delicious," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Remus smiled warmly, pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you think so. I had to ask Euphemia for her recipe. But, I must admit, I had a bit of help from the palace chefs. They insisted after seeing me covered in flour."

His revelation made you laugh. It was endearing to think about the crown prince of Crescenwatch flustered in the kitchen while covered in flour.

“While I do appreciate the intention, next time let me stick to the baking”, you said amidst a fit of giggles.

He lowered his head slightly and with a soft smirk peered over his lashes. “So there will be a next time?”

You worried at your lip and stared at him contemplatively. “That’s not really up to me”, you replied with a soft smile while raising your eyebrows.

He made a soft sound of understanding before changing the topic once again. The conversation flowed effortlessly as both of you made your way through the food Remus had prepared, and exchanged stories about your respective days. His down-to-earth demeanor put you at ease. In no time you were as comfortable with him as you were with James or Sirius. And as the night passed, you found yourself laughing freely at Remus's witty remarks. The initial awkwardness between you, now gone. 

Remus joined in on your laughter, and he tried to suppress the pride he relished in whenever he managed to make you smile and giggle. Still, the twinkle in his eyes was not easily hidden.

The sound of chirping birds brought you back to reality after a long while. It was then that you realized that you had spent all night out with Remus. What was supposed to be a small dinner, had turned into a full evening with the prince. 

You looked at him, lying down on his side, supported by his elbow as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but laugh with slight delirium. The lack of sleep had started to get to you, and the situation you were in (which in normal circumstances would have frustrated you with the thoughts of the day ahead), humored you. 

He seemed to share your amusement as he laughed along with you. 

“I have to get going,” you said finally as you stood up and patted down your wrinkled dress.

Remus hurriedly stood up. He tried to fix himself up, his waistcoat had long been discarded and his white shirt had been untucked.”Let me walk you back”.

You smiled as you slipped your slippers back on. “That’s alright my prince. You don’t need to do that.”

Remus tilted his head and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you’re going back to formalities now. Besides, I insist”.

You chuckled. “Sorry, force of habit. If it makes you feel better, I still call James and Sirius by their titles sometimes”.

He chuckled. “But I’m not Sirius, or James, am I?”, he said, trying to get you to look at him.

Your cheeks warmed up. And in your flustered state, you could not muster up a witty answer. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, making you feel all tingly inside. 

He seemed to relish in this small victory. Whilst in your flustered state, he offered you his arm, which you took, and with the picnic basket in his other hand, he walked you back to your chambers.

The path to your chambers had seemed to become shorter than you remembered it. On a usual day, they seemed to be impossibly far from where you needed them, but as of right now, they couldn’t have been far enough. 

“I had a great night, thank you for inviting me,” you said as you stared up at him.

“Thank you for coming,” he replied.

A brief moment of silence passed between the two of you , trying to make this moment linger as long as possible. Still, you knew it couldn’t. 

“I should…go…” you breathed out with a sad smile. You turned to open the door and walked in with one final smile. However the calling of your name made you stop in your tracks.

“I…I just-”, it was the first time you had seen Remus this nervous. His usual calm and composed demeanor was what you’ve grown accustomed to, and to a certain extent, it seemed weird for a prince like him to become this speechless, especially with a servant such as yourself. 

“I don’t mind being called a prince…”, a small pause. “Your prince.”

A smile broke out through your features, it seemed that you couldn’t stop yourself when you were around him. You stood on your tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening, my prince”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked into your chambers.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, your dream-like evening had to remain on the back of your mind the next few days. With the ball approaching, the bustling around the palace had increased. Young yourself running around more than usual, so much so that you barely had any time left for meals or even alone time. You were currently occupied with the flower arrangements in the main ballroom. A calming chore like this was a nice change  of pace from the usual, more strenuous things you had to attend to. 

You were lost in your thoughts as your fingers danced along the stems of various sorts of flowers.  Either cutting leaves or thorns. Despite the enjoyment of preparing the flower arrangements, you had to make them with certain speed and agility, which is why various small cuts littered your hands.

“Ah, here she is,” a voice echoed through the room, followed by the sound of tumultuous footsteps.

“Good morning Sirius”, you said without taking your eyes off of your task. “Good morning James”.

“And a good morning to you too!” James yelled back, as if he was saying something threatening.

“Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Yes actually,” said Sirius. “You can start by telling us what enchantment you have placed on our Moony”.

You chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe this will ring a bell. Tall, charming, handsome, dorky man with a lovesick smile that was previously not there?” James said as he peeked over your shoulder looking at the arrangement of flowers.

“He is quite handsome”.

“Yes well, we all know that already. What we want to know is why is he acting like a teenager all of a sudden?” Sirius pressed.

“He is?”

“Well, if talking all day long about the pretty girl he asked to ball, and how he loves how she rebukes every flirty commentary he throws at her isn’t acting like a lovesick teenager, I don’t know what is”, James replied.

“He thinks I’m pretty?”

Sirius sighed in exasperation. “They’re both hopeless”.

“Yes yes, you’re pretty, I’m impossibly charming,” James jumped in. “Setting the obvious aside. Will you tell us what has been going on between the two of you?”

With a nervous smile you finished with the arrangement and finally turned to face them. You realized that this was uncharted territory for you. Sure, your friendship with the princes was very close and you could tell each other almost everything (they surely took advantage of that). However, you had never talked about other boys with them.

With trembling hands you lowered your gaze and twisted your fingers before supplying them with the answer they had been bugging you about. “We sort of went on a date. At least, that’s what I think it was”.

Silence.

And then raucous, ear-splitting screams of what you hoped was joy. 

James was jumping up and down while Sirius ran his hands through his hair and paced around.

“And?” James said with a huge grin as he approached you like a madman.

“And what?”

“And how did it go?”

With a grin of your own, you explained how your date had gone. However, you kept the specifics to yourself, relishing in those hidden moments that no one had  been witness to. 

As you spoke of your date with the prince, you couldn't help but notice the eager anticipation in James's eyes and the barely contained excitement in Sirius's demeanor. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but you knew better than to let it sway you. After all, you were just a servant, and the idea of something more with someone like Remus was not in the cards for you.

“So you’re coming right?” James asked. You could practically see the cogs working in his brain.

“What do you mean?”

“To the ball, of course”,Sirius replied.

Your heart sank. The prospect of attending such an event seemed like a cruel joke, a reminder of the gaping divide between your world and theirs. You knew they meant well. They often ignored the blatant divide between you, how scandalous it would be for someone like you to be seen with someone like them in an event of that magnitude. Their words were a painful reminder of the barriers that stood between you.

You looked at them with a sad smile. “You know I can’t. For all I know that night was a one time thing. I’m a servant, we don’t get to mingle amongst royalty”.

As Sirius's expression soured and he began to voice his objections, you felt a pang of frustration building within you. Him out of all people should understand. His anger only served to fuel your own, and before you could stop yourself, you interrupted him, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Please don't," you pleaded, your words a whispered plea. "I've made my peace with it. It's been hard enough."

With a heavy heart, you gathered the discarded stems and leaves in your basket, your movements automatic as you sought solace in the familiar routine of your duties.

Leaving behind a perplexed James and an angry Sirius, you made your escape, the weight of your conflicting emotions pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. As you walked away, the echoes of their voices faded into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the ever-present reminder of your place amongst their world.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a couple days now since your small fight with the royals. You had been avoiding them -all of them. 

You had asked one of your fellow maids to take your turns in tending to their fireplace or taking the breakfast, in exchange for other duties. She had happily done so, despite her brief worry for what must have caused such a request.

You could not say that you did not miss your friends. Your life at the palace was made fun by their antics -even if they did stress you out sometimes-. But the thought of facing them, of being reminded of your place in the hierarchy, was enough to keep you away.

As the night of the ball arrived, you found yourself busy with other chores, anything to keep your mind off the lavish event taking place in the ballroom. You scrubbed floors, dusted shelves, and tended to the gardens, the rhythmic motions a comforting distraction from the festivities happening just a few corridors away. 

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t specifically requested to not attend the ball, and instead you had taken on double the amount of chores you usually did to compensate for that.

So, after a long day of work, you sought refuge at the library. A place you were sure no one would come in, especially not tonight, when everyone wanted to mingle amongst the princes. You, on the other hand, had decided that it was better for you if you maintained your distance. 

However, a certain chocolate-eyed man did not think so.

“You’re avoiding me”, a voice came from behind you, making you freeze in your steps. The pile of books on your hands seemed impossibly heavy now.

You remained in silence, hoping -praying-, he would leave. But luck was not on your side today.

“Why?” he continued. This time his voice was impossibly soft. Your heart sank, hearing the sadness it carried. 

You turned to face him then, and you thought that you could be strong enough to tell him the truth. But as you looked at him, you realized that you couldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at the  ball?”, you said in an effort to avoid the topic as you set down the pile of books and pretended to skim through one of them. “I’m sure there’s a lot of disappointed girls out there right now.”

“Maybe. But the one girl I’m interested in decided not to show up”.

You had to remind yourself that to him, you were probably just a fun time. Someone he might never see again. But to you…

“I’m certain that you have a bunch of beautiful girls lining up to take her place”, you replied.

If you weren't so busy trying to avoid his gaze, you might have noticed how his expression seemed to morph into that of disappointment. And quickly into one of frustration.

“I talked with James and Sirius”, he said. His voice is now much more sharp.

“Well, Sirius has a lot of experience in that department. James might not be that helpful, he’s pretty hung up on Princess Lily-”

“They told me that you had made ‘peace with it’”, he said, cutting sharply into your sentence as he took a step towards you. 

You faltered for a moment, before trying to hold on to the unbothered front you had been trying to put on. However, he didn’t give you time to recover.

“That you don’t get to ‘mingle with royalty’”, he continued as he approached you, making you take some steps back. “And that it was a ‘one time thing’”.

Your back hit a shelf, and before you knew it, Remus was looming over you. His hand reached for your book before setting it on a higher shelf. He then gently took a hold of your chin, and he forced you to look up at him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t tell me you actually believe that”.

You caught how his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Still, that wasn’t enough to stop the small burst of anger that bubbled up inside you. 

“You’re a smart prince,” you said, your words now had an edge to them. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of the repercussions this might have”.

“To hell with the repercussions-”

“That’s because you can afford to do that Remus!” you retaliated. He seemed surprised by your outburst, as he took the smallest of steps backward. “I’m a servant, and if they were to see us, do you know what they’ll say about me?” you continued as you jabbed your finger in his chest. 

“Do you have any idea how I was treated back on Blackhaven?” you debated for a moment if this was really worth telling, but you quickly decided that if he wanted to know about the repercussions, you would tell him about them.

“After enduring Orion’s punishments, befriending Sirius was the most wonderful thing that happened to me. But rumors started spreading on how I was his slut. On how I ‘kept him satisfied’ in exchange for protection!”

Remus kept silent. His hand held on your arm gently, trying to keep you close.

You slumped against bookshelves, and looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t like you had forgotten it. It plagued your nightmares. But it had been years since you had to purposefully remember the punishment that made Sirius decide to get you out of his kingdom.

“Orion found out,” you continued, this time your voice much softer. “So he decided that his normal branding wasn’t enough this time. He said that I would not taint his bloodline -that a servant would not ruin his bloodline.”

Remus’ eyes searched for yours, trying to find a hint that it wasn’t true. That somehow you got saved from being punished. He was familiar with the king’s punishments. He remembered a particular night in which Sirius had not been able to handle it anymore, and he broke down in James’ room.

“So he branded me in the usual place…and then on my hip. And then, he had me lashed…while Sirius watched.” 

You could feel how his fingers tightened around your wrist, but you avoided his eyes. In a brief moment he pulled on your wrist and dragged you to a dark corner of the library where he pulled on a book and a part of the wall popped open, revealing a small room the size of a maintenance closet. 

The sound of a click brought you back to reality. And the small warm light that followed it revealed that the ‘maintenance closet’ was not that at all, but rather a really small study. 

You sighed and turned to face him. He dragged you a few paces up until you were next to the desk. He took you by the waist and hoisted you upwards, so you were sitting on it, before prompting you to continue.

With a shaky breath you went on. 

“I tried not to make any noise for Sirius’ sake. But Orion decided that he wouldn’t be satisfied until I screamed my throat raw,” you had started untying your apron. “ So he didn’t stop, not even when I passed out. Sirius’ pleads and screams kept waking me up, until Orion got tired.”

Remus watched you carefully, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He could see the turmoil in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to speak, and his own words felt inadequate.

As you untied your apron, he noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled slightly. Without a word, he moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached out to help you.

His fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress, the gentle touch a silent reassurance of his presence. With practiced ease, he located the ribbons at the back of your dress, his touch feather-light as he began to untangle them. You tensed at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as the faint outline of the lash scars hidden beneath your dress were revealed. 

But he didn't look away. Instead, he continued to untie your dress, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed more and more of your scars to him. With each inch of exposed skin, his heart broke a little more, but he refused to let his own emotions show.

Finally, the ribbons completely untangled from your corset, and your dress hung loose around your shoulders, the scars on your back fully revealed to him. Remus felt a lump form in his throat as he took in the sight, the raw brutality of your old life laid bare before him.

But he didn't turn away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing the contours of your scars with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes. 

He had tried to avoid it at first, but the Blackhaven crest that was engraved into your skin screamed at him for attention. The crest was jagged and uneven, the lines distorted from where you had thrashed in pain during your punishment. It was a brutal symbol of the cruelty of the Blackhaven royals, and a mark that would forever brand you as a victim of their tyranny.

Remus felt a surge of anger rise within him as he looked upon the crest. You felt as his gentle fingers made its way up to it. His touch was feather-light as he traced the outline of the crest. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the scars rough and raised against his touch.

“That was what he was most proud of,” you said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you. “It made me his property. He tried to make the lash marks disappear later. He said they would just ruin a pretty thing. So they mostly healed. But I guess my body wasn’t able to erase that memory completely.”

More silence.

“The crest on my hip was a final gift. Something about how if I wanted to be a slut, people should know who I belong to. I woke up in the infirmary days later, to the news that Sirius had ‘gifted me’ to Noblehaven”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. But then, without a word, Remus leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to your back. And then another. And another. 

His lips moved reverently over the scars. As he trailed kisses along the jagged lines of the crest, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you—pain, sorrow, but also something else. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you felt his lips press against the scars. 

The contrast of the tender action amidst a place that had been ravaged by brutality and cruelty was devastating. 

His hands slowly snaked their way to your cheeks, and as they softly made you turn to look at him they wiped the tears that had escaped your eyes. Without a word, Remus pulled you into his arms, holding you close as though trying to shield you. 

“Be my queen,” he whispered tenderly, out of the blue. His pain-stricken eyes reaching for yours.

“Remus-”

“No harm will ever come to you”.

Your words caught in your throat as you gazed into his earnest eyes, the depth of emotion swirling within them almost overwhelming. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of his plea.

"Be my queen," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in the silence between you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Your breath hitched as you searched his gaze, seeing the raw sincerity etched in every line of his face. The weight of his request hung heavy in the air, the gravity of his words sinking deep.

"Remus..." you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm just a servant."

He whispered your name, but his gaze seemed to be undecided on whether it wanted to fixate on your eyes or your lips. “Please…” he begged as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your lips.

“Please,” he whispered again. This time the plea seemed to weigh so much more. 

Ever so slowly, you pressed your lips to his. 

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and you melted into his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, a silent plea for you to say yes, to choose him, to become his queen.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Remus' lips. “Is that a yes?”

You smiled up at him, and tilted your head slightly. “It depends. Was that a command?”

Remus chuckled and cupped your face with his hand as he pressed your lips to his once again. It was soft and desperate at the same time. So much longing in one single action.

“I think you know I’m in no place to give commands when it comes to you,” he whispered as he trailed his kisses up to your ear. 

Remus’ hands snaked in between your dress, softly caressing the scars on his way down. The piece of fabric now pulling at your waist.

“Say it,” he pleaded as he trailed kisses down your neck and back to your mouth. “Say you will.”

“I will,” you breathed out.

He pulled away slightly, admiring you for a second before wrapping his arms around you once again.

tags:

@lovelyygirl8

[1-ker0sene-1]

The Dead Do Talk

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3, Chap4

"Hell and High Water P.1"

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: gunfire, corpse description, threats, wheelchair user slur, car wreck

     Getting in the city isn't hard. The roads are cluttered with cars, but most have already been pushed to make way. Johnny's brows furrow at the sights. It isn't like the town. It's not just abandoned and run down. No. It's a fucking disaster. Buildings burned, cars piled up and wrecked. He takes a glance your way, finding you unbothered and only focused on the road ahead.

"This wasn't just the dead-"

     The blue eyed man mumbles out.

     You shake your head. Forcing yourself to look away from the writhing charred bodies that were in a flipped car, looking over to John instead.

"I know getting shot isn't very pleasant and all-"

     Johnny snorts at the comment and shakes his head.

"But.. in a way I think you're lucky. First month was a fuck show to put it lightly."

     You mutter. Your hand lifting to pinch the bridge of your nose as you recount it all.

"Riots in the first few weeks.. people were already turning on eachother. The town stayed pretty civil, most people just left. But the city? Fuck.. They tore eachother apart before the dead could. Then when the dead overran?.. the horde earlier is a cake walk compared to this."

     Johnny listens quietly with a few nods, brows furrowed together tightly. You're both stressed on this. The best idea is to get through fast. In one end of the city, out the other. He held the steering wheel with white knuckles. You hold your rifle in your lap. You're getting to the more dense parts of the city, no longer skirting the outside streets.

"Ye think they would've dropped a bomb on this place.."

     John mumbles under his breath. You watch his expression, the creases under his eyes when he narrows them in focus. You shrug at his words.

"They were focused on getting people out.. besides-"

     You look around at the burned buildings.

"The damage was already done."

     The two of you spent an hour or so navigating the truck through the streets, having to go around several pile ups of cars. It was painstakingly slow. Every inch of progress was due to a mile of runarounds. Doing the best you can to not have to get out of the truck. Not that Johnny wouldn't carry you through. He just didn't want to risk anything happening to either of you. And you would rather not give him that burden for as long as possible. Johnny can't help but stare in slight frustration at the slight tremble in his hands whenever they stop to check directions.

     The pencil shakes just as much as he does when it's between his fingertips. Letting out a grunt as he tried to drag a simple straight line across the page. He can feel your eyes on him. The two of you were shacked up in a small bedroom of a house, a week into your travels together. Laying on your side, Johnny just barely a foot away in his own sleeping bag. Despite your disapproval, most of the blankets were wrapped around you.

"You alright?"

     You mumble out to him. He nods shortly. Before letting out a tsk and putting the journal and pencil aside next to the lantern between the two of you.

" 'm fine bon.. Just- fuckin' tired of not bein' tha same."

     The scott grumbles.

"My aim too."

     He scoffs in disappointment with himself.

     You raise a brow but smile a little.

"Gunshot to the head and you're mad your hands shake? .. You're gonna be okay John.. you just got back on your feet maybe a week ago. Give your body some time. Besides, you miss a shot? I'll be there to hit the target with you."

     You assure. Leaving him to stare softly at you as you reach over to shut off the lantern. Putting you both in darkness.

"Johnny?"

     He blinks out of the memory, looking over at you. You, who taps the map on the next street to go down. Raising your brow at him.

"Still with me?"

     You joke.

     Johnny nods and puts the truck in gear again, starting to pull forward to the road you pointed out. Letting out a hum of acknowledgment.

"Always hen."

     He says simply. Continuing the trip forward.

     Rain had started pelting down on the truck, washing over the windows and the windshield. It wasn't too hard to drive through, but it was worrying for the night to come. It was going to be cold. They had previously been lucky with weather, no storms or rain, god help you if it snows this winter. Johnny pulls the steering wheel to the right, the main road was cut off by a wreck. The other direction was blocked by a mess of corpses that had been crushed by pieces of a burned building.

     The truck screeches to a stop. You're looking at the map when you hear John's breath hitch in his throat. You look to him first, the way his blue eyes widen, a whole storm brewing in those seas. The way his tan skin pales. Lips parted.

"John..?"

     You mutter. Your voice breaks him, instantly pulling the shift back into reverse. A string of curses too fast to understand leaving his mouth. He's looking over his shoulder as he violently pulls the truck back, the tires screech on asphalt. You finally look forward.

     A building, alight in flames. Your map drops into your lap. Staring at the massive horde of dead that lingers in front of the fire, drawn by the crackling. One turns, hearing the truck, another.. You can't take your eyes off them, but you hear Johnny calling your name. Until his hand takes your shoulder, giving you a light shake.

"Directions-! Where can we go!?"

     Hands feebly grasping at the map, your eyes snap down to find a way out of your situation. That horde was bigger than the one on the highway. One that size could flip the truck with ease. Looking at the map you curse in frustration, shoving it in the duffel next to you. Leaning over you look back with John. Your eyes lock on the writhing mass you avoided before.

"We have to ram through- the other way is blocked."

     Johnny glances at you with an open mouth, but he can't bring himself to object when he has no plan of his own. He whirls the truck around, flooring it towards the small barricade of rotten flesh. Even though you're wearing a seatbelt, Johnny's arm outstretches across your stomach to keep you in place. Your hand grips his arm with white knuckles.

     First you hear the crunching, the sharp breaking of bones under the mass of the tires. The gargled wails of the dead. You pull in a shaky breath as the tires start to spin out on the mixture of cement and corpses, looking to Johnny to what can only be described as pure panic. Once he sees it on your face his hand bunches the fabric of your shirt in a fist. Looking forward as he pulls in reverse just a couple feet.

"Johnny-"

     You blurt. Looking back over the seat. The dead are gaining on you, stumbling together in a crowd towards the back of the truck.

"I know- I know bonnie-!"

     The man stresses in return, hollering over the revving of the vehicle. He hammers the gas once again, crunching bones, again. The sound has to be burned into your skull by now. This time, the back tires push through. Sending the truck flying forward down the street. You slump into the seat with a shuttered breath of relief. Still squeezing his arm tight to yourself.

     Johnny momentarily glances at you, shrinking with relief as you do. Letting out a deep breath as he talks to you softly now, his fist opening to a palm.

"We're ok- I told ye we'd be-"

"Johnny look OUT-"

     You barely get to warn him. Before something slams through the windshield from above. Debris from the withering building in front of you. The truck slams to a stop, hitting the breaks hard, the result of Johns instincts. But it's too late. The slam wrenched his head forward, colliding with the steering wheel. Yours hitting the dash.

     Fuck. His head hurts. Johnny's eyes barely flitter open. The throbbing ache just above his brows assaults his brain. His limbs feel impossibly heavy. His temple is pressed to the steering wheel, struggling with himself to come to his senses. You're calling for him, yelling his name, he can see it on your lips. He can only mutter yours in return. You have a knife, you swing- but not at him. Surely not at him.

     No. You strike the blade down on a corpse trying to crawl through the window. His ears are ringing. He feels you grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him from the driver seat. Undoing his seatbelt. His hearing is coming back, so does his common sense.

"John get up-!"

     He looks at you, closing his eyes tightly and opening them again. Taking in the true situation.

"Johnny please! You have to get up-"

     They're fucked. His ears have stopped ringing, leaving the sounds of it all to rush on him like a tidal wave. The dead groaning, the rain, the distant fire still crackling, your voice. Your voice is calling for him. You're still driving back the corpses, plunging your blade into any head that peeks into the broken window towards him. Hauling him as much as you could towards yourself, which was merely at least his upper half hanging in the passenger seat with you. You pulled the duffel closer, your rifle on your back.

     He's still reeling. Johnny's eyes flicker about the car. What are they going to do? They're going to lose the truck. He has to get you out. You. Fuck he has to get you to safety. He can feel blood running down his temple. Your hands cup his face, guiding his head to look away from the mess and just to you. Only you.

"John. Look at me. Alright?"

     Your thumbs gently dig into his jaw, grounding him with the action.

"There's a school. Just a couple blocks. Two blocks away and we're safe. John.. I need you. I need you to get up."

     The words seem to snap some sort of unseen band inside him. The scott lurches forward, arms wrapping around your midriff. Hauling both you and himself out the passenger door. You grab the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder as you both fall from the height of the truck. He grunts as his back collides with the wet pavement, you're on top of him. Providing a familiar weight on his chest that would be comforting in any situation but this one.

"I got ye."

     John rasps, pulling himself together for the sake of both of you. Pulling himself to stand steady with you, easing you over his shoulder as he scrambled away from the dead clawing at the other side of the truck. Stay with me bon.. He thinks. Stay with me I'll get you there.

"Two rights Johnny. Just down the street."

     You tell him quickly. Raising your rifle to cover the both of you. Johnny steel's himself as the rush begins. He moves forward quickly, shoving past any corpse in his way. Doing his best to simply move past or push them down. The dead are brittle really, a hard shove can send them to the ground long enough to make a run for it. But there is so many.

     Corpses in front of him are knocked down, the ones gaining behind are shot down by you. Two blocks. Johnny reminds himself. Not much further. Just another block. He can feel you tensed up. Gritting your teeth as you prop up a little to reload the rifle.

"Last right John."

     You tell him between heavy breaths. The rain was pouring down on the both of you, Johnny couldn't differentiate the feelings of the water from the blood rushing down his face.

     There it is. The double doors of a highschool building. It looks relatively untouched, or at least the building looks stable. He makes a full sprint towards it, eyes narrowing seeing the metal chains looping between the handles.

"Fucks sake-"

     He snarls in frustration. Coming closer, he slips you off his shoulder. Letting you slump into his side, arm tight around your hip to hold you up so you don't crumple beneath the weakness of your legs. Using his free hand to wrench at the chains.

     You have your rifle reloaded, going right back to shooting down approaching corpses.

"We don't have much time!"

     You warn. The crowd of dead is getting thicker, moving together like a looming cloud. Thunderous constant groans, snapping jaws and blank stares. Never quite looking at you. Just forward with milky orbs.

     Johnny pulls the last of the chain out of the handles, tossing them aside. Pushing the door open just enough to slip you and himself inside. Once on the other side of the wood, he whirls around. Throwing his forearms to the doors, pressing them closed. Slamming his knee up against it as well, giving you a little space to sit. John never liked sitting you on the floor. He'd rather use himself as a damn human stool than sit his lass on the ground. He lets out deep breaths, looking over for something to block the doors.

"Alright hen we-"

     There's just a moment, where the cock of a shotgun and the click of your rifle goes off at the same time.

     His back goes rigid, his jaw flexing in frustration. How many things can possibly go wrong today? He presses himself in front of you, despite your hushed mumble of protest. You prop the rifle carefully on the edge of his shoulder, having a steady aim on the threat.

"You were the ones making a fucking mess out there?"

     A hoarse voice calls out with a sharpened scowl. You keep the rifle trained on him, staying quiet. Swallowing thickly as Johnny struggles to keep the doors closed against the dead. The older man, with a round face and a five o'clock shadow, has his own gun trained on John. You did not fucking need this right now.

     There's movement behind an overturned desk, in an instant you turn your aim towards it. Now having a middle aged woman in sight, dark curls adorn her head, along with a seemingly deep etched frown. Your aim makes the man bristle.

"Put your gun down girl."

"She dinnae take orders from you."

     Johnny growls. You keep your aim where it is. The woman shifts uncomfortably, standing slowly and raising her hands. Her voice is shaky, full of anxiety.

"The dead are going to break through- please- shooting eachother does nothing if we just get torn apart anyways."

     She tries to reason, your eyes narrow. The old man grunts.

"They need to get out."

You scoff at such a suggestion.

"We're not going anywhere."

     John presses his shoulder to the doors, which seem to breathe inwards with the flux of the corpses shoving against the bending wood. Frustration seeps deep in his aching bones, holding the doors shut he can't do much to defend you. He grunted and managed to grit out.

"His first. Drop it."

"Over my dead body!"

     The man snaps, his chest shudders as he lets out a wheezy cough. Johnny sees the way your eyes narrow and turn the gun back to the older man.

"We could do it that way-"

     You say bluntly. The other woman let's out a sound of stress, moving to the old mans side. Pressing down on the gun to lower it.

"Please! Please don't. We can help eachother. He can't hold the door much longer."

     Johnny watches you glance up at him, worry etched deep in your eyes. No. No hen you're doing fine. He wants to console you. I can keep holding. You look over to a bookshelf in the corner, gesturing to it. Lowering your rifle. You speak to the woman, finding her more reasonable.

"The shelf. If you two push it in front he can let go of the doo-"

     The sour man scoffs.

"Why don't you get up and do-"

     Johnny hasn't wanted to shoot a living person this badly in a long time. His fists clench against the now splintering wood.

"She can't. Just help for fucks sake."

     The scott snaps. But it sends the two strangers into action without much thought into his words. Pushing and dragging the shelf towards the set of double doors.

     As soon as the bookshelf is pushed closer, Johnny's arms wind around your waist. Holding you securely to him, your back pressed to his chest as he pulls you away. Letting the man and woman push the shelf in front of the doors, effectively holding them closed. How are they supposed to trust these people? How are they supposed to get the fuck out of the building? Feeling your hand rest on his forearm, his thoughts still. He helps you over to a desk, easing you into the chair, humming softly in response to your mumble of appreciation. But you don't let go of him.

"John you're bleeding."

" 'm fine lass. Dinnae matte-"

"It's your stitches. Of course it matters."

     You stress at him, looking up at the scott in alarm. Lifting your hand to start wiping away the blood. You worry so much bonnie.. Johnny sighs at you, taking your hand and putting it back on the rifle.

"When we're safe. We can look at it."

     He says, to which you nod. John slings the duffel off his shoulder and onto the desk top. Fuck. That was all the supplies they have now. Your bloody hand taking the rifle as the other two people in the room turn back towards you.

"She really can't get up? She bit?"

     The old man questioned with a pointed gaze. Johnny was getting tired of his voice real quickly. You however, just chuckle tiredly.

"Not bitten. Just can't walk-"

     The man huffs in disdain.

"So you're a crippl-"

"Disabled. She's a disabled vet."

     Johnny corrected sharply with a slight curl like snarl of his lip.

     The two men seem to stare at eachother for a moment, Johnny's eyes flare in anger. Those usual calm blues that look at you so softly, now sharp and jagged with ice. The woman across the room nervously pulls her dark curls back from her face, coming over to push on the older man's chest.

"Randall that's enough. please."

     Despite her face being more angular and sharp than Randalls, her demeanor is much more gentle. She looks at both you and Johnny with nothing but sympathy.

"I'm sorry about him- .. It's just.. people we have run into haven't exactly been.. Kind."

     She tries to put it lightly.

"I'm J, can I ask your names?"

     The dead are still by the doors, but now that the group is talking quieter they seem to disperse just slightly. Now that they can't see you, only hearing hushed whispers. But still, it was too dangerous to leave through this exit.

"This is John."

     You introduce your sargeant, then yourself after. Johnny still stands close to the desk where you sit, still uneasy in general about these people. He speaks up sternly. He doesn't seem interested in small talk.

"Tha building secure? Been here long?"

     J sighs and shakes her head, gesturing over to the hall, which was blocked with stacks of desks and chairs.

"We only ran in here a few hours ago.. the horde has been filtering through the city until they stopped at the fire- .. The hallways and classrooms are full of the dead too."

     You let out a sigh, running a hand over your face in frustration. Trapped from both ends. The last thing the both of you wanted today. Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Cannae do anythin' t'night.. Have ta let tha dead stumble off."

     The sargeant mutters under his breath, pulling up a chair to sit next to you. His arm instinctively rests on the back of the chair you sit in.

"And whose fault is that?"

     Randall grunts, throwing himself down in a chair across the room. The shotgun resting on his leg. J gives him a look, as if begging him to shut up. Johnny opens his mouth to snap back, but you beat him to it.

"I'd say maybe the corpses? Or y'know- the fact that the world went to shit."

     Not giving the old man much attention, you turn your eyes back to your trusted companion.

"We need a plan.. to draw them away in the morning-"

     You say to Johnny. But it seems he's paying more attention to your rain covered form, the way you shiver once in a few moments, the way your clothes stick to your skin as they're soaked through. His are wet too, but he can't bring himself to care much. But by the way your eyes rake over him with a frown, you do. Worrying again wee hen?

"John?"

"Aye I know.. we'll figure somethin' out."

     You watch as Johnny is shrugging off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You catch his shoulder before he pulls away, your thumb rubs a circle against his skin.

"Let me take a look at your stitches then.. We have to wait till morning anyways-"

     The other two seem to be settling as well, they have a couple backpacks in the corner beside them. The woman, J, seems to dig through one, before pulling out medication for the older man. You turn your head away from them to focus on Johnny. Pulling the duffel bag closer.

"I know I put your painkillers in here.. that little med pack from the gas station last week should be too.."

     You mutter to yourself.

     The slam to the head seems to be catching up to your soldier, he lifts his hand to brush his fingers against the open wound. Definitely ripped a few stitches, he can see you grimace on his behalf. But you pull out the bottle of pills and a small red bag, ready to work on him.

"Shite is too hectic ta be worryin' bout me hen."

You quirk a brow and chuckle at him.

"Stop making me worry then soldier."

Finding a needle and medical thread, your eyes stay down at the bag. But you can feel Johnny looking at you, with those blue eyes. Thinking too much for his own good, you can already tell.

"Don't give me the look."

" 'm worried lass... 'm worried bout tha city..tha dead.. gettin' ye through.."

"Thought we aren't supposed to be worrying John.."

Grabbing a rag from the duffel, you glance up at Johnny. Meeting his softened icy eyes with your own, the way his brows furrow and lift in worry. You sigh, hand outstretching to carefully grasp his jaw. Your other hand wiping away the blood on the side of his head from his temple. Your thumb brushing over the scar on his chin absentmindedly.

"We're okay."

"The last time I told ye that we ended up in a crash bon... now yer soakin' wet an' shiverin'..."

"We're alive. That's what matters.."

Cleaning up his head, you get to stitching. Unsurprisingly, the man sits like an absolute rock. Letting you stitch up his head. You'd think he'd wince, flinch, shift .. Something. But he stays perfectly still for you, not that you don't see his clenching and unclenching fist on the desk in front of you.

"You know it wasn't your fault Johnny."

He sighs quietly hearing your words.

"I should've been payin' attention. If we dinnae crash.. We could've been outta tha city by now."

You frown at him, still focused on carefully moving the needle through his skin.

"I directed you just as much as you drove.. It's no one's fault. And if it is? I'm just as much to blame."

Your words quiet him, he can't think of a response still blaming himself. You pull the stitches together carefully to close the wound again, using your knife to cut the thread at the end. You reach for a bandage in the red bag. John grunts.

"C'mon now. I dinnae need that-"

"Whine later sargeant. I want these stitches to stay and heal."

You huff in return at him, your hand slips around to the nape of his neck to urge him closer. To which he leans down towards you, letting you wrap the bandage over the stitches securely and around his head.

There's a thud against the double doors, most likely a corpse stumbling into it. All four of you jolt. Randall squeezes his gun, J grasps her bag. Your head snaps to the door, trying to listen to the pairs of footsteps. Johnny, his arm shoots out to grab your own, the pad of his thumb nestled gently to the crook of your elbow. He's ready to grab you at any second, just take you away when things get rough.

You take a deep breath, placing your hand over Johnny's. Still staring at the door despite him still staring at you.

".. We're getting out of the city.. We're just.. On a detour."

John grumbles and looks at the other two in the room with narrowed eyes, before looking back to you with a sigh.

"Ye and yer scenic routes lass.."

{WOO this took WAY too long. But I'm excited. Had to split this into a part two, because let's just say things will not calm down. Johnny's so worried about you, so let's give him something to worry about yeah?}

(tag list: @sadstone-s @lolly145 @mangoguy @kaoyamamegami @waiting-so-long @ikohniik @bossva @kaelyn-lobrutto24 )

[lilliad-dreams]

I’m going to be working on a fic soon! It’s a Tangled inspired story with Bowigi! Luigi is the lost prince- The other half to the royal twins. Luigi went missing when he and his twin brother Mario were only babies, and every year, on the twins birthday, the kingdom releases lanterns in his honor- In bright green and blue colors to pay respect to him and how his parents always dressed him in green, and for the twins and their beautiful matching blue eyes.

Unknown to Mario and his parents, Luigi has been locked away in a tower miles away. He was taken by the crazed old lunatic scientist, E. Gadd, who wanted to study Luigi’s apparent healing abilities- Abilities that his brother did not share. As the twins grew, they both showed impressive qualities- Like Mario’s strength and athleticism- And Luigi’s amazing power. But the two twins always felt incomplete, like something was missing. And for many years of their lives, they’d never know why.

Until one day, a thief by the name of Bowser (who will be sporting a more human look here, but still half reptilian, though!) finds the tower and is immediately curious by the little man in the top of it. Luigi asks him if he can take him to see the lanterns, and Bowser, intrigued, agrees.

I have more ideas of course but this is the first part. Let me know if you’re interested in this little au!